


map to alexandria

by Ludella



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: Caleb gave up the piano years ago. When his friend Fjord is getting married and he rejects his request to play at the wedding, it's the least he can do to teach someone else how to play in his stead.His “student,” Mollymauk, is more than some random tiefling with an ear for music, though; he's the lead singer of rock band.It's more than just their tastes in music that clash when they're forced to come together, and Caleb doesn't see himself escaping the other unscathed.





	1. Golden Antlers

**Author's Note:**

> First critical role multichap fic! Plans for this are already at like 25 chapters so expect it to be a long ride. i just love these boys too much to not slow burn the shit out of them. Also in this modern AU there's no magic!
> 
> the chapter title is 'Golden Antlers' by Glass Animals

He thinks it might be intentional, made for some dramatic effect by a pretentious architect whom he’s never met but now holds a grudge against. Beautiful, yes, and attracts the admiration and awed gazes of many visitors, but it just strains Caleb’s eyes every time he walks out of the building. Stained glass is better suited for churches than performing arts buildings, he thinks. But it isn’t like this campus has anything else exciting to act as a prospective student tour trap.

Those tours always try and arrange their times by the building to arrive when the light hits  _ just _ right. It’s a specific hour when the sun is rising behind the arts building and catches that window in the back that filters light through the entire top floor and through the stained glass on the other side. The colors come cascading down to the courtyard in front of the building and when it’s just right, it fits in with all the flora and decorum in the courtyard in a lovely scene. The stonework and gardens out front were designed with those windows in mind so the stained glass only refracts down onto the stone in a perfectly designed feat of architecture and arrogant artists.

By the time Caleb leaves class, a few minutes earlier than his peers, the sun is just high enough to always send a shard of blue light into his eyes as soon as he steps out. The stained glass isn’t arranged perfectly at this hour, the colors bunched together and slanted across the doorstep of the building and not reaching so far as the gate. At this hour when the sun has already passed the window, it hides behind the top of the building, casting the courtyard in the building’s overwhelming shadow and nothing more.

He hurries through the gardens without sparing another thought for the hideous building he leaves behind him. He hates it, really, how pretentious, how arrogant it is amongst all the other plain structures on campus that are less deserving of any gaudy displays. He hears the business building has some kind of abstract sculpture in front of it. Otherwise, all the universities’ creativity went into one fine arts building. How the parents and their children wonder at it, how they stare happily at all the students who leave as if they all must be such prestigious, talented people.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes, and Caleb retrieves it quickly for a distraction. It’s the same text from their group message that he gets every day, just informing him where they’re all sitting today in their usual breakfast spot. None of their schedules match up to get lunch this semester, so they all made the executive decision to pig out in the morning and just wait until they’re all out for an early dinner most days. Finding the time to hang out outside of classes is becoming more difficult as the semester proceeds, too, until the only time they get together is these scheduled meals they force themselves to attend.

He puts his phone back into his pocket without responding. Even though he's learned how to text with the leather gloves he keeps on all times, it's too tedious to do while walking.

Caleb doesn’t mind it like this, really. He breathes once he’s out of the shadow of the arts building and proceeds to their designated meeting place. They always find some kind of time on the weekends to hang out regardless of their busy schedules anyways.

Even if they hadn't specified where they were in the cafe, it isn’t hard to locate his friends as soon as he enters the cozy restaurant. In a booth in the back, one large and one small green hand wave him down warmly as another tan hand slaps the table. None of them have food yet, so he foregoes the line and walks straight to the loudest table in the establishment.

Nott beams up at Caleb as if she hadn’t just seen him this morning when they woke up. She scoots into the booth to make room for him across from Beau who looks like she’s ready to burst waiting for him to take a seat. Next to her, Fjord motions for her to settle down.

He talks before any of them can jump at him. “ _ Good morning _ to you, too, Fjord, Beau, and Nott.”

“Good morning, Caleb!” Nott chirps at the same time that Beau slams her hands on the table and practically shouts, “Guess  _ what _ ?!”

He hesitates to respond, afraid of the answer as he studies the tired look on Fjord’s face. “...what?”

She opens her mouth to respond and almost says something when she cuts herself short, looks to Fjord, and then uses all the enthusiasm that was about to go into her words to punch him in the arm. “Ugh, you tell him!” she finally concedes, and Fjord rolls his eyes.

Far calmer and more collected than his other two friends, Fjord leans forward in his seat with his arms crossed over the table. “Caleb, you remember my girlfriend, Jester, right?”

It’s hard to forget her. They’d only met a few times at Fjord’s place and once when he first introduced her to him over dinner, but she left an impression that couldn’t be shaken easily. She was a little too… outgoing for Caleb’s taste in friends, but she was still very sweet. She got along with Nott, too, and that was important. Caleb nods, “I remember her. Is everything alright…?”

“ _ More _ than alright,” Nott chimes in, and her and Beau share a delighted look at each other from across the table.

Fjord shushes them again before continuing delicately. “Well, she and I have been talking a lot recently, and decided that, you know… We’ve been together a while now, just past two years, and we came to the agreement--”

Caleb is the one to interrupt him this time. “Oh god, you proposed.”

“It was--”

“ _ She _ proposed!” Beau finally bursts, unable to contain it any longer as Fjord groans and gives her a pointed look. “After all this talking about marriage and shit, _ she _ decided not to even wait a goddamn minute and--” Beau stops herself again, clears her throat, and sits back in her seat. “You know, Fjord, you should be the one to tell him.”

“Yes, I would  _ like _ that, Beau,” he says. “I had plans to buy a ring just to keep in case a good time came up after we talked about it, but Jester jumped the gun and asked the day before I was going to the jeweller.” He offers his hand over the table to show Caleb the silver, gently carved ring that sits on the fourth finger of his left hand.

Caleb feels his eyes widening. “...good god, man, you’re engaged?”

A smile finally comes to Fjord’s face, pride seeping through every inch of his face. “I am. We're going to try and have the wedding before we graduate at the end of this semester since I've already got a job lined up. And, you know, your thing…” he trails off, making a vague gesture with his hand towards Caleb.

Right, there are a lot of deadlines coming up. “Well that’s, uh, quite the reason to celebrate, Fjord. You have my congratulations,  _ alles Gutes _ .”

“Thank you, Caleb. We’re quite happy.”

“Now that everyone knows,” Nott says, turning to nudge Caleb’s leg. “Can we  _ finally _ go order?” Caleb takes the hint and stands from the booth long enough for Nott to slide out, and Fjord does the same for Beau. The two women make a beeline for the counter, and just as Caleb moves to join them, Fjord speaks up.

“Actually, Caleb, I was hoping I could have a word with you?” he asks.

Curiously, Caleb nods and sits back down across from him. “Uh, sure… you aren’t asking me to be your best man, are you?”

Fjord chuckles. “Unfortunately Beau already took that role, don’t get too excited.”

Instead Caleb huffs a large sigh of relief and relaxes in his seat. Nothing can be bad now that  _ that _ disaster is out of the way. “Thank goodness. What is it?”

“Well, we want our friends and family to be as involved as possible, and I understand this may be a tall order, but…”

The moment Caleb understands what he’s about to ask, he feels the blood rush from his face. His fingers beneath the rough leather of his gloves twitch involuntarily. 

Of course it would be this.

Fjord twiddles his thumbs and gives Caleb an almost shy, pleading smile. “I was wondering if you’d do the honor of playing the piano during the ceremony.”

At once, he feels the different colors of the stained glass windows bearing down on his back. A particularly hot one burns the back of his neck where he sits in the shaded corner of the restaurant, scorching his throat and preventing him from replying immediately. His coat, even in the cold of February, is suddenly too warm. It feels as if new scars are being scorched into his palms.

Of course it would always come back to this.

He wets his chapped lips before speaking. “...I’m sorry, Fjord, I don’t…”

Fjord is quick to respond, holding up his hands. “It’s alright, don’t even worry about it, Caleb. I figured that might be your answer--no worries, yeah?”

“Yeah, no worries.”

“Since that’s the case, I’ve got a follow up question.” Caleb wants to think that nothing can be that bad after getting two horrible questions out of the way, but he feels he may just be walking into a minefield. “Jester has a brother who also knows how to play that she elected for performing at the wedding, too. He’s alright, but doesn’t have the most experience playing piano, and I was hoping I could ask you to meet him?”

“And give him lessons?” Caleb asks, eyes narrowing. This doesn’t sound that fair either.

“Not lessons, per se,” Fjord is quick to correct. “Maybe just some… coaching, I suppose. I think he just needs some general direction since he usually plays other instruments instead, so he's definitely got a talent for music. Just different.”

‘Coaching’ sounds much better than ‘lessons.’ Many of Caleb’s professors have tried to convince him to become a tutor for the younger students, flaunted the position with wages he could make and career paths it could take him down. Perhaps they just want their class averages to go up, or to be responsible for the scouting of young, bright talents. He knows they certainly all tried to mentor him the same way.

“What does coaching entail?” he asks, watching from the side of the booth as Nott and Beau step out of the line and wait for their orders. Nott catches his eye and waves at him, and he lifts a hand in response.

Fjord shrugs. “Giving pointers? Jester picked out most of the music for the wedding, so the pieces are predetermined. He just needs to get them locked down, don’t think he’s ever had a teacher for piano.”

“Self taught?”

“Believe so, or taught informally. Capable, though, like I said. It isn’t a from-the-ground-up kinda project.”

He keeps his eyes on his friends at the front of the shop for a few more moments before looking back at Fjord. He met the half-orc two years ago now in the same basic intro to music classes and they’ve shared a few courses since then. Fjord isn’t pursuing music as a career, but he takes as many classes in it as he can out of interest. They became friends out of mutual respect and many group projects where no one else did any work.

Fjord’s a good man--a kind, reliable friend. He understands what it’s like to struggle with a passion for music, albeit not in the same way Caleb has, but they’ve always supported each other. Caleb would be lying if he said he didn’t feel guilty for having to turn down his first offer to play at the wedding, knowing how much his friends admire his work.

Something as small as this… should be alright. He can do at least this for a friend when Fjord has done many favors for him in the past.

“If he’s willing to learn,” Caleb says, “then I’ll  _ coach _ him. I can only help as much as he lets me.”

Fjord  _ beams _ , grinning ear to ear and revealing his short tusks. “I’ve told you you’re the best, right? Really, this means a lot to me, to  _ us _ .”

It’s hard not to smile back at him. “I would be a horrible friend to not help at all.”

“That isn’t true, but I appreciate it nevertheless.”

By that time, Nott and Beau return to the table with two trays. Nott offers Caleb a sandwich (his favorite, as she always remembers) before digging into her own breakfast. Beau and Fjord’s tray is much fuller with five plates needed just to sustain the two of them. Being an athlete, Beau has to get so many calories every day, and Fjord’s half-orc constitution just demands it of him even if he spends all his time at a desk anyways. 

The two of them get wrapped up in some conversation they had been having earlier that was put on hold when Caleb arrived. He turns to Nott to talk instead. “You had an audition for ensemble this morning, right? How did it go?” he asks.

Nott’s bright eyes suddenly lower, her cheeks still full of food as she quickly works to swallow the current mouthful she has as she reaches below the table to retrieve something. The small violin case looks large across her short legs, essentially a cello in comparison to her size. She unbuckles the clasps on the side. “Well… about that…”

“You practiced with me for weeks, your work is perfect. What ‘well?’”

The lid pops open, and her green hands delicately reach into the case to pull out the instrument. She doesn’t need to, though; Caleb can see the damage clear as day. A large, deep crack is set into the bridge of the violin. He cringes when she moves it as it becomes evident that the end of it is only being held together by the strings. It’s… a grotesque injury for a violin or any stringed instrument.

And it certainly isn’t one that’s done by  _ accident _ for one as careful with her possessions as Nott.

“Nott,” Caleb begins, voice quiet and seething with anger, “this wasn’t here the other day, this… Someone else--”

“I know,” she says, not meeting his eye. “I knew there were many others auditioning for a seat, but I didn’t think anyone would go… this far to make sure I didn’t make it in.”

His heart sinks at her words as well as the sad smile that comes to her face. She closes the lid of the case and buckles it back up, brushing off the conversation as she takes another bite of her food.

“They were right to see me as competition though, I’ll tell you that. I’ll just be kicking them out of that seat next semester is all,” she shrugs, speaking with her mouth full.

“But Nott, your  _ instrument _ …”

“It’s gonna make assessments suck, I know. I was gonna talk to one of my professors about it, but I know they’ll just tell me to get it repaired.”

That’s a lot of money she doesn't reasonably have. Caleb bites his lip and doesn’t say anything more, though he brings a hand up to drag her in close to his side by the shoulders. She scoots close until their legs are pressed together and warms herself in his side. 

Ever since Nott made it here two years ago, she’s had no small amount of trouble with her work. He knows personally that she’s exceptional at the violin, her dexterous fingers turning her into a prodigy at a young age. None of that matters to those who can’t look past the green skin and pointed ears, though.

When they all separate after their meal, Nott and Caleb walk to the building for their next classes together. She talks the entire way about anything she didn’t cover the last time they hung out just last night. Caleb, more for listening than speaking, is happy to hear out every minute story and ridiculous detail that she can remember, responding accordingly in small chuckles and ‘oh dear’s. It’s obvious she’s still down about her violin--with good reason, being expensive as well as sentimental--but she does good to push past it and make the walk across campus pleasant.

Sometimes Caleb thinks it wouldn’t matter if they never met their other friends as long as they were together, but Fjord and Beau have done an odd but good job at worming their way into his heart. It’s enough to make him even consider  _ coaching _ some random sap how to play for a wedding.

But even more than him, Caleb has reason to believe that Nott loves Fjord and Beau both. Caleb has had friends and acquaintances before, and the distance between them was a choice he made every day. Nott’s loneliness was never a choice, and now that she’s been given the opportunity to have friends, she’s become quite the little star of their group. It delights him to see, given she’s the only thing that’s made him want to touch the piano again.

“I’ll see you later tonight, Caleb!” she says when they reach her classroom. He offers her a wave as he continues down the hall and rounds a corner to the stairwell.

It’s only when he’s apart from his dear friend does every ounce of anxiety return to his stomach, nesting home in his throat. It’s easy to forget how horrible just being on campus makes him feel when he’s with the others, but unfortunately, they can’t babysit him every class. He’d never tell any of them that either; he knows those three would just worry incessantly if he told him just how bad it was for him here.

Caleb thinks of Nott downstairs, excitedly sitting alone in a full classroom, smiling in spite of her classmates’ attitude towards her. It helps him take another step up the stairs.

* * *

Fjord texts him the information about his new disciple a few hours later, and with nothing pressing to do tonight, Caleb agrees to meet later on today. He figures the faster this goes the sooner it will all be over and he can just enjoy his friend’s wedding for what it’s worth. Nott offers similar encouragement when he rejects her advice to just say no if he doesn’t want to. Even as she drives him over to the designated location, she offers him a variety of ways out coupled with ‘it won’t be that bad!’s after he explains he can't just  _ leave _ .

It’s hard not to take her up on the idea of just turning around at any moment, though. The closer they get, the more he realizes just how much he doesn’t want to do this.

The sun is still in the sky at this point, only just considering the prospect of setting within the next hour or so. Fjord said it would probably just take a half hour to meet and get an idea of what they’re working with, and once the two of them have met, it’s in their hands to make sure everything’s prepared for the wedding in four months.

The meeting place is the man’s own home, and though Fjord apologized for taking him to an unfamiliar setting, he assured Caleb it would be alright. As if that alone would do anything for his nerves. When Nott stops the car, he knows she won’t be getting out with him, and it takes every morsel of strength he can muster to open the car door.

“I’ll be back in half an hour, I’ll save you some leftovers!” she calls through the open window as he shuts the door behind him.

Caleb offers her whatever smile he can manage. “Thank you, Nott. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

He watches her car drive back off down the street, desperately wishing she would turn around and demand him to get back in the car. But he was the one who told her he was going through with this, and with a sigh, Caleb turns to face the house of the driveway he’s standing stupidly in right now.

If he didn’t feel out of place before, he certainly does now; the house is  _ massive _ .

Sure, Caleb overheard Fjord and Beau’s conversations about Jester and her family. He didn’t plan on eavesdropping but he can certainly remember certain words like ‘money’ and ‘way too rich’ now. He’s not even sure if the place can be qualified as a house more than it looks like a miniature  _ palace _ .

The house has three floors in the main building, with the sections around it seeming to only go up to two levels. It must be at least five times the size of the home he and Nott are living in now, if not more than that. Lavish gardens line the long driveway to the front door. Flowers of all colors are arranged perfectly in arrangements that seem almost natural before realizing that nothing this grand wasn’t planned to every square inch. He’s more amazed by the fact there  _ isn’t _ a fountain and horse drawn carriage waiting out front. There are two very nice cars, though.

As Caleb approaches the closed gates, he hears a voice call out to him.

“Caleb, right?” a man says, and he nearly jumps out of his skin in surprise as a stranger peeks out from behind the stone wall lining the barred gates. If the surprise of being startled alone wasn’t enough to shake Caleb, then the appearance of his new company certainly is.

Opening the gate with a ridiculously cliche iron key, the purple tiefling greets Caleb warmly. His eyes are bright red, and without any discernible pupils, it feels like he’s one of those eerie paintings that watches you from every angle. Intricate lines of different colored ink crawl up his neck to the side of his face, a nest of feathers brushing beneath his jaw.

For all of Caleb’s strange friends and people he’s met over the year, he hasn’t met anyone quite like this--anyone he was going to need to interact with one on one for an extended period of time, at least.

The tiefling smiles, revealing two rows of sharp teeth behind his lips. He bows just slightly at the waist. “Mollymauk, it’s a pleasure. You  _ are _ Caleb, right?”

Right, he hasn’t replied yet, has he? Caleb sputters out a shaky response. “I, uh, right, I am. To you, as well.”

If Mollymauk thinks to mock his stuttering, it doesn’t show on his face as he sticks out his hand for Caleb to take. “Lovely meeting you, Caleb. I really appreciate this, truly.”

Caleb stares down at the hand offered to him and feels heat rise to his face. He looks down to his own arms, and only once he’s confirmed with his eyes that his gloves are still firm on his hands, he reaches out to shake. His grip is much looser than Mollymauk’s. “Ja, it’s… no problem.”

“Oh, I have no doubt it’s a problem, let’s cut the shit. Who wants to come help out a stranger when you’re already the best, right?” Mollymauk says with a laugh when he lets go of his hand. “That’s  _ why _ I appreciate it. Come on, I’ll show you inside, no need to pull any more teeth than we must.”

His brutal honesty is not quite… reassuring, per se, but it does earn a little bit of respect from Caleb. At least Caleb isn’t pretending like he wants to be here, and this guy isn’t pushing that. Tonight is all about finding as many ‘at least’s as possible, given this is already a worst case scenario.

Mollymauk leads him along the winding driveway to the front of the house, and the closer they get, the more details Caleb can make out. They seem to be just a few marble pillars and glossy floors away from being some grand capitol building meant to host all the world's politicians. It’s just as impressive as it is daunting. A set of stairs that is more horizontal than it is vertical leads them to the front double doors, and Mollymauk makes a show of throwing them both open at the same time for effect.

The foyer, naturally, is just as stunning. The light isn’t as bright as Caleb would’ve expected, much gentler and inoffensive to his eyes. Tables line the walls, filled with all kinds of artwork and intricate pieces. The walls are a simple dark red, only obstructed by a few paintings of a gorgeous, red tiefling woman, and what he assumes are more family photos.

“Your home is quite, ah… extravagant,” Caleb says for lack of any other descriptors. He’s been invited to concert halls that were decorated similarly, but never quite  _ lived _ in one.

“Horrid, isn’t it?” Mollymauk says while looking back at Caleb with a grin. “It’s like living inside of an albeit tasteful kleptomaniac’s breast pocket. If I had my way the place would be done much differently.”

They enter a doorway to one side and end up in a hallway with similar decor. “More, or less clutter?” Caleb asks.

“Less sconces, more chandeliers. Less family portraits, more outlandish artwork. But the sconces in the hallway,” Mollymauk says, lifting his hand to touch one that comes close to his pierced horn as they pass, “really are terrible, don’t you think?”

It isn’t a surprise that a man wearing such bright colors on his fabrics, jewelry, and inked skin has few qualms with the level of gaudiness this home has endured. “I don’t think my home has a single sconce,” he says instead of that.

“We can check that box off for taste, then--and here we are, make yourself right at home, please.”

Mollymauk stops at a door that doesn’t seem to stand out anymore than the rest. Inside appears to be a relatively simple sitting room brought directly from the 1800’s, save for the large TV that hangs across from one of the sofas. On the far side of the room between two floor to ceiling windows, a classic upright piano is nestled perfectly along the wine red curtains on either side. It sits atop an ornate rug with almost dizzying amounts of patterns and detail, much like every other piece of decor in this room.

For how embellished everything in this house is, the piano is…

“Simple, right?”

Caleb’s head jerks to the side as Mollymauk finishes his thoughts, the tiefling already staring at him with a knowing smile. “It isn’t a  _ bad _ thing,” Caleb quickly tries to justify, and Mollymauk shrugs as he approaches it.

“It’s a hand me down. Our mother is quite the performer, just as her father and his mother were before. Apparently it’s the piano they were all taught to play on--Jester and I as well,” he explains as he pulls out the bench and takes a seat. Although he sits to the side leaving an obvious spot for his tutor, Caleb simply remains standing and lingers by the side as if focusing on inspecting the instrument.

“That’s a lot of history for one piano. It must be, uh, very sentimental to you all.”

Mollymauk gives another shrug as he reaches atop the piano to pull down the sheets he’d left waiting there. “Not particularly. It’s a story more than it is cause to be attached. I’d hardly care if we bought a new one tomorrow.”

Caleb remains quiet, momentarily shocked by the unexpected response. It isn’t a bad philosophy, he supposes but it is… quite different from his own. Before his mind can wander to the piano gathering dust in his own home, Mollymauk lifts the fall board with a creak and reveals the surprisingly still bright teeth of the piano’s keys.

He speaks again, offering the sheet music to Caleb to inspect. “These are the pieces Jester and Fjord were considering. One for parents and bridal party, bridal procession, and recessional. Have you played at a wedding before?”

“Yes, years ago for a family friend,” Caleb responds absentmindedly as he inspects the pages. “Jester didn’t want a traditional bridal march?”

Mollymauk barks out a laugh. “You’ll quickly find that little is traditional about my sister or our family.”

He was already coming to that conclusion himself.

The song choices are different, one being what he can only assume an original or composed by someone they know as it is without both title and author. With just a glance he can hear it playing through his eyes alone, and yes, it’ll do, it’s a fine substitute indeed. The other two are suitable choices as well, none too difficult, but still intricate enough that it would require work to learm.

It’s been a while since Caleb touched a piano seriously, but he can remember the feel of it on his fingers with every note his eyes scroll over. He’s played the other two before, recognizes them like old friends as he would any other piece he’s played before. The hand motions, the small reminders he drilled into his head, the change in tempo and volume all return to the front of his mind. If Mollymauk had just said their titles Caleb is sure he would be capable of just sitting down and playing them from memory alone.

They’re good songs. His memories with them are positive, and miraculously, they remain positive in his mind even looking back on them now after everything that’s happened. He could play these  _ easily _ \--

Except, Caleb reminds himself, he isn’t the one playing. His eyes glance up from the papers to find Mollymauk watching him with a lazy smile, and just how long had he been spacing out? “I’m sorry is there, er, something wrong, Mollymauk?” he asks awkwardly, handing the papers back to Mollymauk.

“Molly.”

Caleb falters in confusion. “Pardon?”

He repeats himself. “My friends call me Molly.”

Caleb feels his nose already scrunching up, and he fights down the grimace that comes when he encounters odd people in their own odd habitat. “And you have just decided that we are now friends… because?”

Being coerced into coaching someone to play three songs on piano is hardly any grounds for friendship in Caleb’s mind. In fact, Mollymauk has already admitted he knows that Caleb should hate this, and by extension, feel distaste towards Mollymauk himself because he  _ is _ kind of the reason he’s here anyways and really, to imply that they’re friends just because they’ve exchanged a few sentences at most and talked about sconces while he just keeps  _ grinning _ at Caleb even now--

Molly watches him curiously, and if it’s even possible, the corners of his mouth stretch wider.

“I like how you look at music.”

He says it as if it’s simple, as if Caleb should understand and be on his way. The statement is so bluntly matter of fact it surprises Caleb again as the implications roll in. Even though Caleb had been standing right here in front of him the entire time, he feels as if his privacy has somehow been invaded now.

Having not received a timely answer, Mollymauk continues. “You have this look in your eye that says you should be playing far more than I should, you know? A real passion--”

“I’m not playing for a reason,” Caleb quickly cuts him off. “My relationship with music is a… a complex one. I’d prefer it if we could just focus on helping you to play like we agreed in the first place, because my friend is waiting for me and I would very much like to see her.” It’s more of an outburst than he’s proud of, especially for a man he’s just now met (who doesn’t appear to be malintented in any way, just bad at choosing which toes to step on), but Caleb can hardly hold his thoughts back when he gets going. It’s a flaw of his Nott, Beau, and Fjord have all tried to confront many times before.

And yet, the smile remains on Mollymauk’s face, appearing unbothered by the small rant.

Instead, he positions the sheet music for the first song on the rack and faces forward. “Quite alright, I can get that.”

He positions his hands on the keys almost clumsily, having to look down and back up a few times before they fall where they’re supposed to for the first few chords. They don’t press down on the keys, not yet, as Caleb watches from the side. When he lifts his fingers to reposition them, Caleb notices the calluses on the tips of his fingers that are telling of a musician. 

He’s interacted with many musicians before and knows well that those calluses are essentially a wedding band for the marriage between a guitarist and his instrument.

“As for me,” Mollymauk continues, eyes focused on the page, “I  _ love  _ music.”


	2. Normal Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm writing so much of this ahead of time just bc i'm that pumped to get it rolling. thank you for the sweet comments!!
> 
> chapter title is "Normal Person" by arcade fire (they'll show up a lot since so much of their music gives me taliesin/molly vibes)

They agree to meet once a week, though depending on how the sessions go, the schedule is subject to change. Caleb isn't quite sure if they'll  _need_ to see each other so often for four months if Mollymauk isn't that inexperienced. He would give four months to a beginner who just learned the basics and needed only to learn three pieces. Theoretically, Caleb should have six more days of recovery before he has to force himself into social interaction with the tiefling, but since they only got through introductions the first visit, Caleb finds himself standing at the same tall gates just days later. He takes a bus this time instead of bothering Nott to drive him. The trip is significantly longer, having to walk the rest of the way through the grand neighborhood, but it’s better than adding more stress onto his friend’s shoulder.

The night she picked him up from the first ‘lesson’, he could only say things were fine when she asked how it went. He knows the loss of her violin weighs heavily on her mind, not only for sentimental value, but how it’ll affect her classes as well. Ensemble is already gone and lost, but if she can’t get a hold of a replacement or a rental in time for her next assessment, this semester is rendered meaningless. It makes her reassuring words when she tries to comfort him about his current situation that much more painful.

They met a long time ago now, it feels. It was just after everything had happened, and in that horrid, sorrowful state he was in, Nott found him. She found and cheered him up, essentially taking a broken child beneath her wing and helping him stand back up on his own two feet. There's a long ways to go before he truly is back to being “normal,” but nobody has done as much for him as she has nevertheless. She spoke brightly of music, her eyes shining when she talked about a dream to play professionally in spite of everyone's opinions of her. It moved him; it inspired him.

He worries for her so much that it consumes his thoughts for the majority of the trip to Mollymauk’s house, and he only realizes he should be worried for himself when he meets the tiefling’s eye at the gate.

“Afternoon, Caleb. Sorry to call you out right after class,” he says while swinging the gates open for Caleb to walk through.

Caleb pretends to shrug casually as if he isn't bothered to be here. “It’s nothing, we just finished another round of assignments, so I have time before it gets busy again.”

Mollymauk nods along in understanding but doesn’t say anything else about the time. Instead, he launches into a series of questions about the university he attends. He asks about their sports (which Caleb knows nothing about) and the rivalries between majors (which he also doesn’t care for), but when Molly finally hits the right question about professors, Caleb rolls his eyes and feels a different kind of nerve come up.

“Oh, don’t even get started,” he groans, and Mollymauk grins wide as he holds open the front door for Caleb to enter the house before him.

“What? You got some real sticklers, some real assholes?”

“The opposite; none of them care enough about their work here,” Caleb sighs, crossing his arms. As they traverse the house, he simply expects Molly to open all of the doors. “They’re far too concerned with their own work and are just so… entitled to their own success, above all their students’ well being. I do not enjoy it much at all.”

“How horrible,” Mollymauk sneers, smile dropping so he can grimace. “You’d think they would have some consideration for their students.”

“Some are fine,” Caleb concedes, “but the worst ones leave a more lasting impression. Especially since they’re teaching _music education_.”

He knows he’s messed up the second he sees Molly’s ears perk up, his tail twitching behind him. “Is that what you’re studying?”

And here he had made a vow to avoid any topic of music besides what was direly necessary. When Molly opens the door to the sitting room, Caleb quickly shuffles inside with his shoulders hunched over. “Yes,” he mutters quietly, “but it’s not exciting. Have, uh, have you tried practicing any of the pieces at all?”

Still standing in the doorway, Mollymauk watches Caleb and appears as if he wants to say something. The hesitant look on his face lasts not even a moment before he closes the door and follows after him towards the piano. “The first one a little bit. I’m capable of playing it through, but there’s a few areas of concern.”

He takes a seat at the bench as Caleb pulls up one of the lighter chairs in the room to the side of the piano. Caleb watches Molly retrieve the sheet music from atop and lay them out neatly on the rack before his hands fall to the keys. With little introduction or other mindful conversation, he starts to play.

Caleb is immediately able to pick apart his style of playing, listening intently. He knows the song well and how it's supposed to sound, embedded deep in his memory so that it's easy to compare. Molly’s playing is by no means graceful, but it also isn’t bad for a simple read of a not-so-beginner’s piece. Caleb listens, not stopping him at any point, and keeps his eyes trained on the tiefling’s hands. They stumble a few times, but he never stops to redo any of the sections he messes up and toughs through the rest of the piece.

It won’t be hard to improve the issues he has with this song logistically, and for the most part, he does very well. Caleb would be relieved if he were a student he were tutoring as he would have much less work to do depending on how receptive he is to Caleb’s coaching. But even for the sections he _does_ get right… something is off.

“You don’t have to mince words,” Mollymauk says as soon as he finishes, fingers hovering above the keys. “I know there’s a lot of room for improvement.”

There is room for improvement, certainly, but not quite in the way he thinks Molly expects. The stumbling, the pacing, all of it can be fixed with a few words and tips. Reading and playing through a piece are the easiest parts, getting all the notes right, all the chords in the correct time, is the easy part. The part that's missing is hard just for how difficult it is to explain to someone who might not have an ear for music.

“You aren’t horrible,” Caleb says in the worst compliment imaginable, and Mollymauk smiles at him with raised brows. He tries again. “No, ah, for someone who doesn’t play piano as much, you did very well. I don’t think it will be an issue brushing this one up and making it suitable for a wedding. But, how should I say…”

Mollymauk tilts his head curiously, waiting for Caleb to find the correct words. “You _are_ the one in music education.”

Caleb rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “I only switched last year--What I’m trying to say is that, you know,” he says, gesturing vaguely with his hands between Molly and the piano, “you… You play guitar usually, right?”

The tiefling’s brows raise higher, and a look of momentary surprise and interest pass over his face. “Did I tell you that?”

Shit, he didn’t, did he? Caleb flushes, quickly trying to cover up his clumsiness with his words which, considering his lack of proficiency in, is not his wisest move. “No, you didn’t, I just, uh, noticed your hands, last time. The uh, your fingertips, they are quite callused, so I just assumed…?”

Mollymauk lifts his hand to his face to observe his own fingers as if he had never noticed. It's interesting to see the lightened skin on his purple fingers, and as he inspects them, Caleb can't help but notice the tattoos that run all the way down his wrist, one even to his middle finger. As soon as that smile comes back his way, Caleb wishes he hadn't said a thing. “Well your assumption is correct, I _do_ prefer the guitar. I’m impressed by your perception.”

Perhaps if he just barrels forward with the original conversation, Mollymauk will forget he said anything. Caleb takes a deep breath and tries to compose his previous thoughts. “I meant to say… you are used to a different style of playing, as the sounds between a guitar and a piano are very different. Even if you can hit all the notes and ah, not stumble anywhere, there’s a certain quality to your playing, a kind of… atmosphere, that’s missing.”

His words don't make sense, both to his own ears and Molly's. The other man stares at him curiously as they both try and decipher what he'd just said, and Caleb feels his nerves rising like warm chills up his spine to take hold of him. Of course he isn’t _actually_ interested in music education, he isn’t meant to try and teach people these kinds of things when he can hardly explain them to himself. He’s always been horrible with words, and music was always that bridge between him and people that he could count on using to communicate. Now, without that, he's left floundering.

Unable to speak of music, unable to use music, Caleb feels his head begin to spin with the primal desire to just  _communicate_. His thoughts jumble together, as if all trying to squeeze out a small hole in a dam until the entire thing has clogged and just continues to build pressure in his head. 

“Here, I’ve got an idea,” Mollymauk says after a moment. He pats his legs and stands, walking backwards to the door to keep eye contact with Caleb. “Stay right here, I’ll only be a moment.”

Just like that, he disappears beyond the door, and Caleb is alone.

It leaves Caleb a bit dumbfounded, and for a few minutes, he remembers just how out of his element he really is here. It’s more obvious how little he fits into this grand environment when he’s the only one in the room, and he suits being near Molly even _less_. It’s a strange relationship they have, not near as formal as a professional teacher and student, but far from friends as well. They’re just acquaintances meeting by obligation for the sake of two people they care very much about and would like to have a fine wedding day. Just acquaintances who meet every week in this dazzling house to discuss the one thing that Caleb finds himself unable to talk about in any capacity. The set up for this relationship, whatever it may be, could not have been worse.

Caleb sits back in his chair and tries not to overwhelm himself with inspecting the room. With every differing pattern and ornate vase filled with complicated arrangements of flowers, he feels himself becoming dizzier. There is little comfort to be found here, or for miles around this place entirely, so Caleb closes his eyes and waits.

As much as this is an act born out of kindness and care for a close friend… Fjord really is going to owe him a few more favors after this.

The door opens back up and Mollymauk returns, this time toting an unmistakable guitar case on his back. He sits back down on the piano bench, straddling it sideways with one leg up and crossed over his knee so he can face Caleb. “Musicians are better at communicating directly through music, right?” he says while pulling out a simple, acoustic guitar. “This should be easier on both of us.”

The words catch Caleb's attention, and he feels his heart pound in his chest. As if out of being unable to communicate anything at all, he managed to get something through to Mollymauk. That emotion was nothing but frustration and confusion, but that wish he had called upon so desperately in his head... perhaps it's naive to think Mollymauk was actually able to read it beyond face value. Anyone might be able to tell how he feels by the look on his face, and anything beyond that can't be confirmed without asking directly.

The instrument isn’t particularly remarkable in any way. There’s a loving amount of wear on the sides and neck where hands have practiced a long time. Along the edge and back of the base, a few war torn stickers hang on for dear life as time continues to push their limits. Caleb can’t make out any of the logos that are obscured by the angle, but he thinks he recognizes one pattern from a band he once saw in the record store. He hadn’t disliked them.

“Right, so…” Caleb looks between Mollymauk and the piano, back down to the guitar, and takes a moment to close his eyes and try to compose himself again. It’s just music, he thinks to himself. He knows this better than anyone. “Right. Are you good enough to play by ear, or memory? I don’t doubt there’s a guitar composition for the processional, but…”

Mollymauk cuts him off with a simple chord, and Caleb falls silent as he watches that irritating cocky smirk gradually dissolve from Mollymauk’s face as his attention narrows in on the instrument in his lap. His left hand finds its place along the strings easily, his right hand testing the key with a strum. He has the opening note right on the first try.

The rest comes easily. Caleb watches as his fingers take off, deftly manipulating the instrument to produce a tune that sounds far gentler than the stiff sound he had just produced on the piano. Without any formal composition in front of him, Molly recreates the melody of the sheet music before him, not needing to look at the page. His eyes remain focused on the guitar, putting an immense amount of thought into every strum and careful flick of his thumb across the strings.

Anyone might be able to tell how he feels by the look on his face, and anything beyond that can't be confirmed without asking directly. But a question doesn't have to have words. This is how they communicate. This is the language that Caleb has always spoken, always responded to the most. Caleb feels a shift in the room as if, for the first time, he has finally seen Mollymauk.

The melody is light, floating gently along the light from the windows to Caleb's ears. His fingers are gentle. His face lax, eyes lidded as he slowly grows more confident in the composition he's developed and the original tune comes through more strongly on the first loop. It's like the song could be anything Mollymauk wished, from a lullaby to a cheerful little tune; he has full control of the atmosphere, and he's able to  _command_ it. The song is not gentle and sweet because it had been composed to sound so, no, it feels as if Mollymauk is simply _allowing_ it to be. With one change of his mood, it could become anything.

Now, Caleb finally understands that he isn't just helping out some poor sap who hasn't played a lick of music in his life. Mollymauk is a man of his own craft, and it just happens not to be piano.

He's talented, enough to earn Caleb's begrudging respect--and a fair amount of it.

He comes to a soft, natural stop and lifts his head to smile at Caleb. “So? Ideas?”

It takes a moment for Caleb to break out of his stunned silence. “Yeah… yeah, you can hear the difference between them. The roles of both instruments by themselves are, uh, the same in this instance, both leading and atmospheric, yeah? They can be played on their own without an accompanying lead, but don't consume too much of the natural atmosphere.”

Molly nods along.

“But your piano tries too hard to take that lead above the atmosphere. It isn't harsh, just too… distinct. It needs to be gentler, with less emphasis on every individual note, it should all hum together like, uh…”

“Like strumming a guitar instead of fingering it,” Molly finishes for him helpfully, and Caleb nods.

“Right, right! It's a difference in intention. You must not think of a recital as much you should a large, elegant hall. Not fading into the background, but not the star of the show, _ja_?”

Mollymauk hums in consideration, looking back down at his guitar. “Interesting, that actually makes sense. I'm quite used to playing up front, drawing as much attention as possible.”

“Guitar is a great instrument because it can do both very easily, like piano,” Caleb explains. “To invest in learning both styles of playing can be very useful regardless of which you specialize in. Experience in both can enhance the other, you know.”

Slowly, that smile creeps back onto Mollymauk's face.

“You really do love music.”

Caleb stops, confusion suddenly warping his features. Here he thought they were actually making progress having a regular conversation. “I… I would not be here if I hated it.”

“Or you could just really owe Fjord. But even though you _say_ it’s complex,” Molly says as he removes the guitar strap from around his neck and begins to put it away, “I’ve got this feeling that you really want to talk about it.”

“I enjoy music,” Caleb concedes, “but it… it _is_ complicated.”

Mollymauk merely shrugs and finishes putting the guitar back into its case. “Well, if you ever _do_ want to talk about it, you have the perfect set of ears here that is eager to listen. In fact, I even carry my _own_ opinions from time to time.”

He absentmindedly returns to the sheet music on the piano before them as they speak. Without launching into playing the full piece from the top, Molly goes through the beginning slowly and repeatedly, trying to implement what Caleb had told him. In a way it’s amazing to see him struggle after he had picked up that guitar so easily and played it as if it were as simple as breathing.

Minutes pass as the song loops once, and then twice, changing with every iteration as Caleb provides quiet commentary and advice. Errors move from one section to another as they're solved, and by the fourth time through, a few are even resolved. “I think," Caleb says after letting Molly play in silence for a few minutes, "our opinions might be very different. I can play guitar about as well as you can piano.”

He doesn’t look up from the keys as he talks. “The guitar is certainly more of my element than the piano; it’s been handed down through our family through generations.”

“Like the piano?”

“The piano _itself_ was handed down and we were given basic lessons. Playing the _guitar_ is far more important to us crazy show-folk. Even when I learned piano I stayed away from classical music, so I’m out of my element there as well.”

Caleb realizes this is where he should ask what kind of music Mollymauk _does_ play. He could also ask about his family, how they were all taught or what they do. Mollymauk plants many seeds in his words for Caleb to pick up as he pleases. They're opportunities that Caleb just has to say “oh?” to take advantage of.

He doesn’t, because the moment he thinks to is the same moment he realizes that it’s only been twenty minutes, and they still have longer yet to go before he can leave. That Nott is waiting for him at home, saddened, and he will return to the classes he abhors tomorrow. That he and Mollymauk aren’t friends, and he has no reason to be sitting here chatting amiably as if they are.

At once, all his fears of the piano, every ounce of anxiety he gets from the single press of a key, rise up like bile in his throat as if making up for the lost time he spent without caring. As if it's a voice in the back of his head, he can hear that horror speaking to him, only needing to remind him that yes, he  _is_ terrified of working with the piano and, right, he shouldn't feel comfortable here with a stranger. A stranger he only met days ago.

They aren’t friends, and he remembers that he _shouldn't_ feel at ease here--not here, and not ever. So he doesn’t say anything.

The open, tall windows are the only indication of time passing, as Caleb isn’t so rude as to pull out his phone in the middle of a meeting like this. They go through the first piece one more, and then again, stopping constantly only to exchange a few necessary words before starting over.

The more he thinks, the odder it becomes to Caleb how much Mollymauk _tries_ to talk and make friendly conversation. He leaves so many open ends in his sentences that could all lead to undoubtedly interesting discussions or stories. With how the man looks (his tattoos, his dress, his composure) and the decor of the home they’re in, Caleb’s sure he has no short supply of tales to tell. He knows they'd be interesting.

But everything he says revolves around the only common thread that’s brought them here, and the singular thing Caleb would rather not have brought up; music.

Perhaps being trapped in a room with a more-than-strange stranger while forced to wallow in the one thing he hates more than anything really is the worst case scenario. Maybe being Fjord’s best man would’ve been more bearable than this, although the option wasn’t open to him. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to get it over with and play--no, the twist in Caleb’s stomach completes that thought for him. Even if he could suddenly learn to bear playing by himself, there’s no way he could do so in front of others. The thick leather that covers his hands reminds him of that every day.

His own worst enemy, Caleb recognizes it’s his own fault he brought the thought up in his head, and he hunches over in his seat a little more to try and casually cover his mouth with his hand as if thinking hard about Molly’s work. The piano’s sound couldn't be farther from his ears now, though, and his eyes drift off into some distant place as his mind kidnaps him into another daze. Of all places to go into an episode, Caleb realizes here and now may be the worst.

“I’m pretty jealous of your school.”

He registers Molly says something, and slowly, Caleb manages to lift his eyes to look at him. The tiefling remains facing forward, trying to play as he continues talking.

“I never went to college, but some of the classes I’ve heard Jester talk about sound fun. Being able to just learn entire, whole _things_ every day,” he muses, voice wistful and strangely suiting the music. “Not that I actually want to go, god almighty. It sounds cool in concept though, huh?”

It’s strange for him to talk.

It’s strange for him to try and strike up conversation with Caleb when they’re strangers, when he’s admitted he already knows that Caleb doesn’t want to be here. When he hasn’t responded well at all and tried to close off for the rest of the time they have together. This is all out of obligation to two people they care very much about; that kindness doesn’t have to extend to each other.

But Caleb says, “What do you do?” instead, catching Mollymauk’s eye as he glances at Caleb briefly.

“I work in a music shop. I like hands on work, but I also like people work, so I help people find what they need in the store, too. Which is a lot more than it sounds, because do you know how many people just _decide_ they want to play an instrument then go out and try and buy one on the spot?” Mollymauk tuts, and Caleb hopes his hand covers the small smile that disappears in an instant.

Slowly, the knot is beginning to unfurl in his stomach. “What hands on work do you get at a music shop, lessons?”

“We’re not that broad,” he says, shoulders shrugging and disrupting his playing just marginally. “But we’ve got some buddies in a different square that do lessons, so we trade back and forth when the wrong people come through our doors. We sell and repair instruments, mostly.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow. “Repair?”

“Yes, it’s quite fun work. Very delicate, very precise, but oh _so_ satisfying when the job is done. It’s like magic, if magic hadn’t gone extinct centuries ago.”

“Do you repair violins?”

He asks it without thinking. Eventually, Mollymauk brings the song to a lulled stop and turns to face Caleb directly. The smile on his face isn’t as wide or mischievous now, a lazy quirk that Caleb can only assume is his resting face. “We do, and if it’s too tough, we send it to somebody who can. Have you a damaged violin, Caleb?”

He expects to hear a question asking if he also plays violin, and he’s pleasantly surprised when Mollymauk foregoes the implication entirely. “My friend does, as of earlier this week. A rude thing done by horribly jealous people.”

Mollymauk sneers, his face twisting in disgust as his hands finally lift from the keys and come to rest in his lap. He turns to straddle the bench and face Caleb once again. “How terrible--there’s no greater sin than harming a musician’s instrument. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to look at it. Of course, I’m not a _professional_ , my boss is, but point still stands.”

It’s the first thing Caleb’s heard all evening that makes him perk up. “It’s quite the gnarly break, they snapped the bridge nearly right in half.”

“Can your friend afford a new one?”

Caleb grimaces. “No… she cannot even afford this. But I cannot afford a new one either, so this is all that’s left.”

“A repair like that costs a lot of money,” Mollymauk informs, though something tells Caleb that the tiefling knows he’s already aware how these things go.

He nods anyways and leans back in his seat, fiddling his with loose ends of the gloves at his fingertips. “We are very close, I would do this for her.”

A softer, more sincere smile finds its way to Molly’s face. He leans forward as Caleb moves back. “I’d be more than happy to help out. You should see the shit people bring in, I bet you twenty bucks I’ve seen worse.”

“I don’t have the money to be betting if I am to be investing in this but a, uh, thank you, Mollymauk,” Caleb says, unable to suppress the smile that finally permeates the thick facade he’d tried to cast over his face. This outcome is unexpected, to say the least, but it does well to improve his mood considerably. Caleb had already been thinking about having the instrument repaired for Nott by himself, but he knows that she won’t let him just _do_ that. If he can somehow convince her that Molly is some part of this and it’s easier on Caleb to do this way, perhaps she would let him. “Do you have a card for the shop or anything I can use to uh, you know?”

“I have my _phone_?” Mollymauk says, flashing bright teeth behind his smile for only a second. “We should probably exchange numbers just to keep these lessons in order, yeah?”

Yeah, Caleb thinks, that’s a good excuse. He fumbles to pull out his phone as Molly does the same, the tiefling scooting the bench closer so they can look at each other’s screens and direct their own info. It’s no surprise that Mollymauk’s phone is much nicer than Caleb’s, sleek, new, and elegant in his pale hands. Meanwhile, Caleb has to angle his finger oddly just for a button to press, cursing under his breath at the difficulty typing on a smartphone with thick gloves provides.

He knows Molly is watching him, having finished putting Caleb’s number into his phone much quicker, and he waits for the inevitable question about his covered hands that always comes up, just like ‘do you like music’ or ‘why don’t you play music’ or ‘why do you hate--’

“Here, let me type, my last name is spelled pretty weird,” Molly says instead and holds out his hand. It’s a casual enough command that allows Caleb to reject him with a simple pass and not leave any room for awkwardness after, and phrased so specifically, removes burden from Caleb’s shoulders if he accepts. He hands his phone over and watches him type with dexterous fingers. It’s easier to make out the calluses on his fingertips when they’re this close, and Caleb’s interested to find them on every single finger.

Just as Caleb puts his hand back out to receive his phone when Molly finishes saving his info, the guitarist suddenly lifts Caleb’s phone in the air in front of him. Caleb sputters in momentary confusion before he hears the sound of his own camera’s shutter, then Molly is bringing it back to his lap to put the finishing touches on his own contact photo and handing it back to Caleb.

“You know, so you don’t forget,” Mollymauk says, which Caleb thinks must be the biggest underestimate of the year. He nods along to save the trouble of arguing, though, and puts his phone back into his pocket as they come to stand together. Although the house is quieter on the way out with Molly not offering any unnecessary conversation, Caleb finds it far less uncomfortable than the few other times he’s been here. As if instead of being constrained by social law, they’ve both just come to the mutual decision not to talk on their own.

It’s nice like this, and Caleb finds himself appreciating the undeniable beauty of the house on the walk out instead of being intimidated by it. As busy as it is, he can’t say it isn’t also lovely.

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I have a better idea of the time,” Caleb says as soon as he steps out the door, stopping on the steps and preventing Mollymauk from leaving after him. He has reason to believe if he doesn’t just say goodbye here, the tiefling would walk him all the way to the front gate. “Thank you again, Mollymauk.”

“Well it _is_ my job. I’ll be happy to hear back from you, Caleb,” Mollymauk says, leaning against the doorway. “And thank you for all of your help today--you have a lot of good things to say about music, and you should say them more often.”

Caleb looks away, opens his mouth to make an excuse, and is cut off as Molly lifts a hand.

“But it’s complicated, I get it,” he says with a wink and takes a step back into the house. “I’ll be waiting to hear back from you--and have a good night and a safe trip home, Caleb.”

He doesn’t know why, but Caleb feels the urge to smile creep back up. It only makes it up to his knees before Mollymauk is closing the door with a wave, and for some reason, Caleb waves back. For what is supposed to be a casual acquaintanceship born out of necessity, Mollymauk seems to be trying to make the most out of this very much on-a-whim relationship. Maybe he shouldn't have shut down the idea of making friends so quickly.

Caleb thinks about it the entire walk home. Molly's attitude towards new people is a different approach than he or any of his friends have ever adopted, and he finds himself mentally going through all the people he sees day to day that he never interacts with. His professors he doesn’t talk to after class, his classmates he avoids, the cashier at a restaurant he always attends; how many of them would offer substance if he tried reaching out in that same way? How different would his life be if he took every coincidental meeting and made the most out of it?

In reality, he knows it’s something he wouldn’t be able nor want to do. He has no need for so many friends or people who would clutter his day to day routine with unnecessary conversation. But on the walk home as the gradual sunset chases his back, his mind wanders to music, and how similar the ideas are. Once, he had cared for performance, for reaching the minds and hearts of everyone who would listen, for making that genuine connection in the one way he knows how.

He hurries home quickly to be with his friend, and Nott immediately perks up from her spot on the couch as soon as he walks in. “Hey, Caleb! How was lessons--I’m sorry, _coaching_ ,” she says with a slow wink, as if the fact that they’re practically lessons is a secret between them. Caleb doesn’t try to fight a smile this time and makes a beeline for the couch.

He collapses onto the cushions without a second thought, and Nott’s hands immediately find a place running through his hair. She knows it's the single most comforting thing she can do, and he leans into her hands. “Tiring,” he says, “I do not know how I’ll make it through these four months alive.”

She chuckles at his dramatism. “You can always quit any time, I’m sure it’s within their budget to hire a pianist. Fjord said Jester’s family is _loaded_ \--you saw that house, too!”

“Oh, don’t get me started on the house,” Caleb groans. “You would’ve gone mad if you stepped inside.”

“Hideous?”

“ _Beautiful_ , lined with gorgeous painting and sculptures, vases with flowers, glass cases housing precious whatevers…”

He spends the entire night describing the inside of the mansion is as much detail as possible. Ever the kleptomaniac, Nott ooh’s and aah’s at every detail, constantly asking questions and insisting he tell her more about every object. Conversation is easy with Nott, and it’s the most talking Caleb has done all day just listing glamorous decorations from a madman’s mansion.

It feels good to talk when it’s with friends like her, just as good as it is to talk with Fjord and Beau. He stumbled upon the three of them by coincidence, and now posed with this direct dilemma of where to sort his new stranger, well, it’s a little more complicated than whether or not they get along. He pushes the odd tiefling and his odd house to the back of his mind to deal with later, all their conversations and words lost to him as Nott goes on a rant about her escapades chasing a particularly squirrely squirrel.

By the time she gets to the juicy part about Beau’s supposed new crush, he’s already half asleep. She ushers him to his room and he doesn’t put up a fight. It feels good to be in bed, to be home and with himself after his mood has been recharged by his dear friend. He doesn’t think of the lessons, of the mansion, or the enigmatic man himself.

Yet somehow, when he goes to sleep that night, he can still hear that gentle hum of guitar lulling him to sleep. It really was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should say that the only experience i have with music is playing piano for a few years quite a while ago. though i don't play anymore, i've recently gotten a lot more into the music scene in general and decided to write this bc of all that.
> 
> I don't want to say specific songs because I've always preferred more vague music in fic, but since there's obviously going to be a lot of music, I'll just give references down here to what I listened to while writing/what inspired the scene and so on.
> 
> for the first song, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izNxtsC1b4k) or [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odkRfv-xAP8) since they're what I listened to while writing.
> 
> or christina perri's a thousand years because i'm a cheesy motherfucker who knows One wedding song but ignore that.


	3. Fresh Strawberries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is fresh strawberries by franz ferdinand

**[1:21 Mollymauk]: update, tuning a piano costs money, more at 11** ****  
**[1:24 Caleb]: Did you send this to the right person? I don’t remember talking about this** ****  
**[1:25 Mollymauk]: i’m starting the conversation, the update part is supposed to be funny since we weren’t talking about it. Just had a real piece of work come in the shop** ****  
**[1:26 Caleb]: And this person thought tuning a piano was free?** ****  
**[1:27 Mollymauk]: ohhh yeah, i knew there were problems the moment i saw her face. Came in and left like a storm, yelling that her boyfriend’s guitar got tuned for free (when it got new strings) ((which costs money))** **  
** **[1:30 Caleb]: I see what you meant about customers now. It sounds awful.**

“Ooh, Caleb, what’s so important on your phone?”

He looks up from his screen to find Beau staring at him deviously across from him. She wiggles her brows and leans over the table.

“You never text anyone that much,” Fjord adds, not particularly helping his case that what he is doing is certainly not reason for suspicion. It’s all purely professional.

Texting Mollymauk was, not unsurprisingly, a bad idea. Caleb scrolls through their conversation, narrowing his eyes at every text. Somehow, a simple message saying that Caleb was free to meet on Thursdays turned into a question about Fridays, and what Caleb does for fun, and the level of difficulty his homework provides, and so on. He has a way of picking up mundane information Caleb provides and making questions out of it that he initially sees little harm in answering.

Caleb makes a show of rolling his eyes and puts his phone back into his lap. “I cannot help it when he keeps--”

“ _He_ ?” Beau repeats loudly, eyes and smile both widening. In what was probably meant to be playful behavior, she sends out a leg and kicks his knee beneath the table. Hard enough to make him cringe, but not enough to earn an apology. “Who cares about what we were talking about before when _Caleb_ ’s got a guy he’s talking to!”

“ _Eins_ , it is not like that and you know it, and _zwei_ , I would much prefer to keep hearing you fumble through this talk about your new crush,” Caleb responds coolly. He takes a deep satisfaction at how her face immediately drops and the smile that comes to both Nott and Fjord’s faces.

“He’s right, Beau, I want to hear more about this tall mystery woman,” Nott chirps. Caleb isn’t so sure if she’s giving him aid or legitimately wants to gossip about Beau; she’s always the first to interrogate anyone who reveals any sort of backstory details.

As the three of them launch into more questions and begrudging argument, Caleb glances back down at his phone beneath the table.

 **[1:30 Mollymauk]: good customers make up for it because sometimes they share really good stories, though. Isn’t all bad!** **  
** **[1:31 Mollymauk]: and what if she was that one classmate you were talking about yesterday… the pieces are falling into place**

He stifles a small chuckle and slowly types back. He’s gotten better at responding in a timely matter in spite of the gloves.

Before he knows it, he and Molly have been going back and forth for days, and it’s horrible. Each time his phone buzzes in his pocket and he hopes it’s one of his friends only to see the selfie Molly took on his phone pop up, he can’t help but roll his eyes. He only gets a break from talking to him during class because, well, Caleb isn’t so rude that he would just suddenly stop responding unless he had to. Somehow, Mollymauk manages to keep things interesting with the little substance Caleb provides.

“Caleb isn’t even listening!” Beau shouts, slamming a hand down on the table. All the plates on the table rattle with the movement.

Caleb continues to text as he speaks. “I am listening I am very interested in your conversation with the lady from the gym, Beau,” he says, monotone and very much trying to dissuade attention from his side of the table.

 **[1:34 Caleb]:** **I doubt it, her boyfriend plays oboe**

“I think it would be lovely if you told her how you felt,” Nott says, and Beau groans, throwing up her hands.

“I don’t even like her that seriously, I just think she’s hot--why don't we ever talk about Fjord's personal life, huh? Doesn't your little band have something coming up?”

“Oh, no you don't, we aren't talking about my band. Not now and not ever, thank you.”

Beau's fist collides with the table and Caleb can see her arm swooping out in a ‘behold’ motion in front of Fjord from the corner of his eye. “That's so suspicious! Right, Nott? It's like, why does he hide it so much, like he's ashamed even though we’ve all heard him play bass before?”

“Even if she's just hot you obviously care enough to not just ask her to hook up,” Nott says.

 **[1:35 Mollymauk]: but now I’m convinced it’s her, and the only explanation is that she’s CHEATING on him with some guitarist!** **  
** **[1:35 Mollymauk]: ohhh caleb, the drama! arts indeed!!!**

“You thought Keg was hot, too,” Fjord provides unhelpfully, the topic effectively shifting from his personal life. “You two hooked up and called it a day. Still hang out, very happy end all things considered. Why’s _this_ one different?”

“You don’t _know_ her, Fjord--”

“Because you won’t _tell_ us anything about her.”

“--but she totally isn’t that kind of person. I don’t think I could just sleep with her, you know? She seems too… serious. Like, really intense.”

**[1:36 Caleb]: She’s a red-headed gnome.**

“Then you should still talk to her! Maybe this could be the start of something beautiful, like an _actual_ relationship!” Nott says dreamily, and Caleb hears Beau pretend to retch.

“I don’t know if I _want_ an actual relationship, or like, fuck, even if I did--if!--we’ve only talked like twice. And I fucked it up both times!”

“Maybe she’s into dumb lesbians!”

“You better watch your back, Nott.”

**[1:36 Mollymauk]: OHHH FUCK!**

This time, Caleb can’t hold back a small snort, and all eyes at the table turn to him.

Beau, of course, antagonizes him first. “I don’t wanna hear you laughing at me being a dumb lesbian when you’re the biggest _idiot_ gay at this table.”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at you--”

Fjord’s brow raises, elongating each word from his mouth. “So, you were laughing _at_ …?”

A pause overtakes the table. Caleb damned himself.

“Actually, I _was_ laughing at Beau.”

“Your phone is on under the table!” Nott says, and Caleb turns to look at her sharply. She immediately drops the grin on her face and holds up her hands defensively. “Oh, oops… sorry Caleb.”

“Caleb, I’m five goddamn seconds away from snatching that phone out of your hands with my feet if you don’t share with the class stat,” Beau says warningly. Beneath the table, he can feel the toe of her boot knocking against his ankle and he quickly tucks his feet beneath the booth.

“It’s just Jester’s brother, the guy Fjord asked me to help with piano for the wedding!” he explains, and in all of two seconds, all the mischief on his friends’ faces drop. Of course they would only care if it provides dirt on him, and to make a point, he closes his phone and puts it back into his pocket. “You are gossip vultures, I swear.” As if he doesn't partake heartily in their little gossip ring just as enthusiastically when it isn't about him.

“Well, damn, that’s no fun,” Fjord says.

Beside him, Beau nods and sets her feet back down in a normal position below the table. Even Nott appears to be disappointed that there’s nothing interesting to come of Caleb’s conversations. He knows she’s just waiting for the day he reaches out to make new friends and god forbid something _more_ . The fact any of his friends think he’s capable of not only attracting somebody, but being attracted to somebody, _and_ managing to go under their radars this long to actually make progress with the person? It’s endearing they think so highly of him, in a way.

Then, Beau narrows her eyes and slowly turns back to him. “...why are you smiling at Jester’s brother’s texts?”

And the cycle starts anew.

As much as he loves his friends, it’s impossible to explain that no, they aren’t dating and no, Caleb wouldn’t even consider them friends. They’re texting out of obligation, and all Caleb is doing is responding to his nonsense out of good will. Although he doesn’t say why, Caleb has to keep good favor with the man, especially given the project he’s just taken on.

Said project will be coming to fruition today, too, and he can hardly mention anything without wanting to tell Nott every single detail. He and Molly scheduled their next session earlier in the day this time so they could talk about Nott’s violin afterwards. Caleb makes sure that her schedule is busy all day that Thursday with work and dinner with Beau before he texts Molly his ideas for the day. Given how protective she is over her own things, Caleb knows for sure there’s no way he’d be caught taking her violin from her room for more than a few hours. He decides he’ll just have Molly come over to look at it and then be out before she ever knew what hit her.

It’s the anticipation that he’s doing something great for his friend that helps guide Caleb through their coaching this week. He hardly thinks of the time passing, his head too full of sweet ideas of how Nott might smile when he presents her with her fixed instrument, how great it’ll be to see her succeed after all this. It helps that Mollymauk has improved since last week, though there’s still a ways to go before Caleb would think him suitable of playing at a wedding.

He responds to all of Molly’s questions and small comments meant to strike up conversation, not reading too far into his intentions this time because today it’s worth something. Today Molly will be doing him a great service, so of course he’ll be nice and chat a bit if he must. They pick up conversations they’d had over text that Caleb didn’t delve too deep into, going over his course schedule and how Fjord acts when he’s around the rest of them. He justifies it as a brother being worried for his sister's future husband, but the rest of his topics are just friendly.

With only his dear friend in mind, Caleb thinks nothing of sending his address to Mollymauk, even excitedly hurrying home to make sure she isn’t there when Mollmauk arrives and everything is in place. Molly agrees to drive separately to meet Caleb, and it's the only time Caleb has actually been anxious to see the man--given it’s only for his set of skills, but it's a start to not hating their time together if they'll be meeting every week.

He returns home quickly, ensuring that the house is indeed empty and her violin remains in its place at home. He tried giving Mollymauk a reasonable window to stop by his work for whatever he needs and then to come here, but Caleb wishes it’d go faster now. It feels as if his friend might suddenly return at any moment, and if she does, he wants to have a reason for her to be happy when she does.

He doesn’t even bother sitting in the living room to wait as he hovers by the front door and watches for the telltale purple skin and horns that very few people in this city have. He perks up at every person who walks by the house and deflates just as quickly when they're mere strangers. When a bright tiefling wearing equally bright fabrics does finally appear, Caleb opens the door and tries to bite back the anxious smile he's had to hold down since this morning. Mollymauk seems just as delighted to see him and waves with one hand, holding a case in the other.

“Long time no see,” Molly says jokingly, and Caleb chuckles.

“Quite. Please, come in; my home is not quite as extravagant as yours, though.”

Molly steps inside. His eyes are already darting around the entrance and living room with a smile. “I like things that are less extravagant than me. It's definitely _you_.”

“We uh, know very little about each other.”

“Exactly.”

He has no idea what Mollymauk is agreeing to or how any of that makes sense, but he doesn't bother arguing now. Caleb's resigned himself to never being able to understand half the sentiments that come out of Mollymauk's mouth, and now especially when they aren't here to talk. Molly could say any amount of bullshit as long as this job gets done.

Perhaps he can be a good host afterwards, offer him tea or coffee or even just ask how Mollymauk's day has been despite having just seen each other half an hour ago. He finds himself not repulsed by the concept of conversation between them now, already growing used to the tiefling's innocent prying. Mystified and endlessly confused, yes, but not upset.

He guides Molly to Nott's room once they give up on conversation. The case is lifted very delicately, and Caleb has to hold on tightly as he hands it to Molly so his shaking hands don't break it even more.

Mollymauk doesn't waste time even walking anywhere else, kneeling in the hallway as he pops the lid open.

His reaction is immediate.

“Oh yeah, this thing is fucked.”

Caleb's heart sinks at the words. He watches as Mollymauk gently lifts the instrument from its case and tests its tenacity, cringing when they both hear another creak as the break point gives a little more. At once, the strings buckle, detaching the entire thing as the broken bridge tries to hang together by a few splinters.

“Horrible, isn't it,” Mollymauk mutters as if to himself more than Caleb. “Such a crude break can only be done by the worst scum of a person.”

“Yes… I have no doubt they are,” Caleb responds, returning to his usual slouch as that simple hope is quickly extinguished. They move to the living room where Caleb takes a seat at the couch, not even watching Molly mess around with the instrument. He already said it was hopeless, after all. “I'm sorry for calling you out here, Mollymauk, I… don't know why I thought such a major break could be fixed so easily.”

Mollymauk doesn't say anything for a few beats, and by the time he sits in an armchair within Caleb's field of vision, the violin is locked back in its case and rests on his lap. “Tuning the strings on a guitar is much easier than tuning a piano; you shouldn't feel guilty for not knowing an instrument that isn't yours.”

Easy for him to say, Caleb thinks. Even a novice should be able to look at such an extreme fissure and know it would take more than glue. The image of Nott's smiling face, her excited thanks and look of pride when she sees what Caleb has done for her… they all disappear from his mind in an instant. Though he wouldn't tell her about this now that it's useless, he can only see her downcast face, a look of disappointment in Caleb as he remains unable to repay her for anything she's done for him all these years.

It really sucks, and it's all Caleb can do to sit back and sulk until Molly's voice chimes in.

“I mentioned it last time, right? We know people across town who can handle bigger things like this and just send it to them,” he says, fingers running over the case in his lap. “Terrible as it is, not all is lost. It just needs a new bridge carved and attached which, yeah, is expensive, but--”

“How long would it take?”

“More than a week, that's for sure. I'd have to ask my buddy--”

“But you _can_ fix it?” Caleb asks insistently.

Mollymauk smiles, and Caleb thinks he might see something like exasperation on his face. Or maybe it's something different. “If you would give me the credit for handing it to someone else, yes, I can fix it. Though your friend will certainly realize it's gone.”

That doesn't matter. He can explain it if he knows that it's possible. Sure, it isn't the grand surprise reveal he wanted to give her, but isn't this better than nothing? “No, that's fine, that's fine, I just… want to have this done, please.”

“Then I'd be more than happy to do that for you, Caleb,” he says with as much of a bow he can manage sitting down, arm out to his side with the other over his chest. “Your friend is very fortunate to have you, you know.”

“I don't know about that, she's done much more for me. It's nothing for me to spend a little…” Ah, right, there’s still the issue of pay. Caleb isn't particularly in any financial crisis, but ever since he stopped working, it isn't like he has consistent income. He worries his lip between his teeth, leaning back in his seat as he considers it. “I do not think I can pay you now, though. If we wait--”

“Sure you can!” Molly says casually with a wave of his hand. Caleb's face pales in horror before he continues. “You're giving me free piano lessons so my sister and her hubby don't have to pay for a pianist at their wedding. Consider it already paid; to not would be _ridiculous_.”

“I can't just _not_ pay,” Caleb insists. “As generous as your offer is, Mollymauk, I couldn't accept that in good conscience. I'm merely doing Fjord a favor, these are… this is all favors upon favors, it does not translate properly into currency one makes a _living_ from.”

Mollymauk seems to consider his words seriously, humming as he holds his chin between his thumb and index finger. He closes his eyes in deep thought. “Well, my dear Caleb, I'm afraid there's few services you could offer me that would be beneficial towards my causes…”

“I swear if you just wait a few days I can pay, truly.”

“Oh, I've no doubt you're a man of your word, Caleb, but I'm not about to let you drop so much money that can be spent elsewhere.”

As if he spends any money on himself or anywhere else. As expensive as it is and as long as he hasn't worked, Caleb can afford to spend this here. It would only limit how much he eats out for the next few months with their friends, and he knows Nott would cover him occasionally. He doesn't really need to spend money on anything, not for himself. If he doesn't spend it here, where _would_ it go?

“Do you have a suit?” Mollymauk asks suddenly.

Caleb pauses, caught off guard by the unrelated question. “I… I do,” he says, and by the time the question registers, the answer becomes an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. He does have a suit--for recitals. “But it isn't really… I wouldn't?” he stumbles in lieu of an answer, hoping the vague negatives might register in Molly's mind.

“Well, there we go!” Mollymauk exclaims excitedly. He immediately hops off the chair (miraculously remaining mindful of the violin case in his possession) and rounding the back of the couch Caleb is sitting at. “Come on, up now, I’ve suddenly got splendid plans and someone must pay witness.”

He turns around in his seat, not standing as he’s told to, and stares up at Mollymauk in confusion. For all the things Mollymauk “has a way with,” managing to bewilder and surprise Caleb remains at the top of the list. “I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about, and I really would just rather pay--”

Mollymauk groans, though it sounds more mocking than it is serious disappointment. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. You said you don’t have a suit, so we’re going to go out and buy one, and _that_ will be your payment. Follow?”

“Buying… a suit? That won’t pay for a violin, the money isn’t even _going_ to you.”

“Yes, but it would humiliate my sister and our mother and all our family line if you were to arrive at the wedding looking drab and horrible,” Mollymauk explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your payment is to not embarrass my sister and her husband at their wedding. It’s now completely separate from lessons this and coaching that!” he says with a final clap of his hands.

It doesn’t… make sense, not at all. There’s no reason Mollymauk shouldn’t just wait the few days Caleb needs before he just pays for the repairs normally. This could be another run of the mill transaction, and he had been hoping that’s how this would go because he doesn’t know how _else_ these things should go.

Instead he has a man he’s hardly known for not even two weeks standing in his home offering him this… this weird proposition--no, it seems as if he’s just trying to be _kind_ but that isn’t all it is. He could’ve come up with some dumb way of giving him a discount or doing anything else, and yet he has Caleb begrudgingly standing to his feet to get a suit. A _suit_ of all things… He hasn’t worn one in forever.

He can’t just say no, though; being able to keep this amount of money is very nice, after all.

So Caleb sighs, looks down at himself and his simple attire, and nods. “Alright… _ja_ , sure, if that’s what you want?”

Mollymauk bobs his head with a self-satisfied smile. “Absolutely. I know the perfect place, trust me.”

Caleb grimaces. “I can’t just go alone?”

“And trust _you_ to pick something fashionable out by yourself?” Mollymauk says incredulously, gesturing with one hand to Caleb’s entire person. Caleb looks down at himself and, well, he isn’t dressed to the nines right now since he left straight from class, but is it really _that_ bad? Cardigans and jeans go with everything.

“I can’t imagine it’s too difficult to pick out a well fitting black suit--”

“Oh, no way,” Mollymauk leers, starting the walk to the front door as Caleb hesitantly trails behind him. “You’re not getting away with something that boring--don’t look at me like that, I’m not going to force you to look like _me_. Just a little flare to catch everyone’s eye at the wedding,” he says while holding the front door open for Caleb.

“I’ve, uh, never been the one to catch people’s eye. I’d prefer not to, even.”

“Simply a figure of speech, we just want you to look nice when people _do_ look at you,” he says. “I think you _could_ catch people’s eye if you wanted to, you have a very handsome face. You aren’t busy, right, it’s fine if we leave now?”

Mollymauk only asks when they reach his car parked out front, and Caleb thinks the question is a little too late now. But he _is_ giving Caleb a way out, and for a moment, Caleb considers taking it and just hiding back in his room for the rest of the day as he always does. _Would it be so bad, though?_ A voice in the back of his head asks, and honestly, he doesn’t know. He thinks of Nott’s smile when he mentioned meeting more people, possibly even making new friends.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad--good, he doesn’t know about, but perhaps a change of pace is what he needs.

Caleb nods and makes his way to the passenger side. “ _Ja_ , we can go.” He only registers the _handsome_ comment in the small silence he’s gifted as Molly focuses on settling in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He catches his own eye in the side mirror, not understanding, but cheeks warm all the same.

As soon as they’re driving, though, the conversation picks back up, and Caleb sits back and listens as Mollymauk details the store they’re going to. He doesn’t leave too many spots for Caleb to answer, and he notices that there’s even less opportunities for him to add his own input than before. His first instinct is to think Molly rude for dominating the conversation so inconsiderately; his second is the thought that maybe Molly has just learned how little he talks and taken the conversation into his own hands.

It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, he thinks, and some of Caleb’s own classmates of two years still haven’t caught on to small things like that. Mollymauk did say he enjoys working with people; maybe this is just an extension of that ability.

As difficult as it is to participate in conversation with new people, he doesn’t mind listening.

The store is in an area of town Caleb hasn’t visited before, which isn’t surprising given he is both a homebody piece of scum and an unfashionable garbage man. All the stores on the block have their own unique atmospheres with small chalkboards outside touting encouraging messages atop a menu. All sorts of colorful flags fly from the windows of the buildings, and as Molly finds parking, Caleb finally finds the word for the demographic here.

 _Hipsters_.

“I know what you’re thinking and trust me, it _is_ indeed the worst,” Molly says, surprising Caleb after the car had been quiet a few minutes. They climb out of the vehicle and Molly is quick to drag him down the sidewalk. “But there’s a few diamonds in the rough down here, a good few authentic places among all the corporate garbage trying to look young and hip.”

“Is that what it is?” Caleb asks, inspecting the shops as they go. He does recognize more brands than he expected.

“Oh totally, it’s pretty gross. Jester and I come down here a lot, she doesn’t mind all that though. Just thinks anything pretty is pretty.”

Caleb smiles, shuffling closer to Molly to avoid walking into other passerbys. He notices the tiefling doesn’t really make room for other people walking on his side of the path. “If only everyone was that simple.”

“Right? The whole world would be a lot better if there were more Jesters. I’d duplicate her if I could, but then there wouldn’t be enough Fjords to keep her off the walls.”

Even though he doesn’t know Jester very well, Caleb feels like that’s accurate.

The place Molly ends up taking them to is between a corner store and a restaurant with fine print and tinted windows. For all the dainty grunge and endearing unprofessionalism of all the other stores down here, the one they enter seems to have a unique sense of class that the others lack. The walls are tall and white, the floors glossy, and there are very few racks of clothing on the floor for the size of the store. Covered cases at the front encase a number of watches and cufflinks.

Molly offers the cashier a wave as they enter and turns back to Caleb. “I shop here as often as I can for gigs, the selection rotates enough to make it interesting coming back every few weeks.” Caleb thinks to ask about the word ‘gig,’ but Molly is quickly pulling him to the middle of the shop before he can say anything. “This is where _I_ shop,” he says, gesturing to one side that’s filled with all kinds of outrageous patterns, materials, and colors. Caleb thinks he might recognize one of the shirts as the same one Molly wore when they met. Molly turns them to the other side of the store. “This is where we’ll shop for _you_.”

This side is… much tamer, in comparison, although still more than anything Caleb would willingly pick out for himself. The contrast is probably intentional to make Caleb grateful for what little outrageousness he’s being swayed to--still outrageous, but not as bad as it could be. The colors of the blazers are much more muted, and none appear to be entirely one safe color or without some kind of flourish to them.

Caleb takes his time to wander through the aisle. He can hardly see himself wearing many of these things, never having been one to stand out at all. The blandest thing in the store is stripes and they simply remind him too much of old piano tutors he once had, rude and boring as they were. The most color he’s ever worn are dark reds and blues with the occasional green thrown in on a special day. His friends mock him for his poor fashion all the time, and going through the selection here, he finally understands what they mean.

He tries to stop and seriously consider whatever few he happens to be in front of. A pale blue jacket with white florals at the bottom, a plaid-reminiscent pattern across green, white with metallic gold edges… no, none of it suits him at all.

The moment he turns around to tell Mollymauk so, he finds the tiefling already approaching him with an armful of fabrics. He offers Caleb a dazzling smile and stops in front of him. “Don’t look so lost, this is supposed to be fun. We’ll leave if nothing sticks,” he says reassuringly, hanging the entirety of the wardrobe in his hands on a random rack to his side. “Here, tell me what you think of these?”

“Loud,” is Caleb’s first response, and Mollymauk laughs jubilantly.

Everything he brought has some kind of pattern on it. Florals that are just slightly darker than the original color of the fabric or only catch in the light. Curlings twirls and spirals that are large enough to disappear before becoming dizzing. Large, wide stripes. It’s incredibly distracting and immediately eye-catching in a way Caleb cannot comfortably agree to. Molly, evidently, is able to pick up on his discomfort. “Are patterns _totally_ out? The only other option is color. Or shape, if you want a high collar, or billowing sleeves…”

His disgust must be clear on his face if another laugh from Molly is anything to go on. “I just… don’t want it to all be so busy. Some just make you look like a walking canvas--which is fine, if that’s what you’re going for,” Caleb quickly amends, “but uh, I am… not.”

“You don’t have to wear _all_ of these together; even I can agree that too many patterns makes for a nasty ensemble. One interesting piece is more than enough. Let’s see…” Mollymauk trails off as he talks, returning to the clothes he brought and begins to sift through them. It’s impossible for Caleb to try and follow his process or train of thought, watching him lift pieces together as his tail sways back and forth leisurely behind him. A shirt next to a jacket and--no, those go back to the rack. He lingers the longest between two different colored dress shirts with similar small decals at the collar when Caleb’s eyes wander back to the rack he was already examining before Molly came.

Loud, overly colorful blazers aren’t something he thinks he could ever do, as lovely as some of them look. They just aren’t for him, better suited for gorgeous, confident people like Mollymauk who aren’t afraid to put themselves out there. He runs his fingers over the shoulders of each piece before stopping, reaching the next section. His hand stops on one hanger, and he hesitates. Just one interesting piece, right?

“Mollymauk?” he says, and the tiefling looks up with a hum of affirmation. Hesitantly, Caleb removes a vest from the rack on the wall and holds it out for Molly to see. He immediately ‘ooh’s in fascination.

If it isn’t something that’ll be on the outside, Caleb thinks it might not be so daunting. The vest is a simple, dark red that isn’t unlike the curtains in Mollymauk’s home. The pattern is… probably floral, or something Caleb can’t really describe if he wanted to, but it’s almost the same color. It’s discreet, only enough to notice if someone were close enough to speak--he wouldn’t catch an eye from across the room, especially with a coat on top.

Molly seems delighted by the choice and quick turns back to his hand picked selection to flip through again. “I didn’t think you would actually have taste, Caleb. Who knew all you needed was a little prompting?”

Caleb wants to say it was force, but he knows that it wasn’t. He came here on his own free will after rejecting multiple opportunities to back out. This was just as much his choice as it was Mollymauk’s. When Molly turns back to him, he takes the vest from Caleb’s hands and holds it up to a mid-length jacket. It’s the simplest thing Molly brought back, dark grey and only slightly textured.

“What do you think? This way you look handsome from afar, but as soon as you get close?” He doesn’t even have to finish, giving Caleb a bright grin and a raise of his brow that makes him chuckle.

“I would not have traversed that exact thought process, but it does look nice, doesn’t it?”

Mollymauk nods, folding the two items over his arm. “Yes, it does. Go stand by the fitting room, I’ll pick out a shirt and slacks that’ll fit.”

“Don’t you need my size?”

He pauses, and Molly gives him another suspicious smile. “I’ve been paying attention,” is all he says before pushing Caleb to the back of the store.

Caleb has no idea how much he should read into that, or if he should even start. Mollymauk has quite the flare for dramatics, and it extends into his sense of humor over text. Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to simply joke like this, though regardless, it does make Caleb’s cheeks redden. Joke or not, nobody has flirted with Caleb in a long, _long_ time.

Molly returns moment later with even more clothes on his arm than before, accompanied by the young woman who had been at the register when they walked in. The two of them chat amicably as Calen is ushered into a dressing room where he is, thankfully, left to change by himself.

Now that he thinks about it, this will also be the first time in a while that he has had to use a changing room. Every time he goes out to purchase clothes he simply buys everything one size above what he assumes he is. Everything is baggy and droops off him, but it’s never been an issue. It isn’t in his character to stand out or really put effort into his appearance in any capacity.

This is different. When he finishes dressing, Caleb looks in the mirror and can hardly believe the man looking back at him is himself. This change, this difference and unfamiliarity with himself should be scary--and it is, very much so. He feels his anxiety resting low in his stomach where it always remains, and for a minute, he thinks of just changing back into his regular clothes and leaving.

But he walks outside the fitting room anyways, trying to button up the coat as much as he can on the way. Molly gasps when he sees him, then laughs as he approaches Caleb with his hands up. “Don’t cover yourself up! You should never button a jacket all the way up, what’s the point of picking out that lovely vest you liked?”

“Well, it is very lovely, but the moment I saw _myself_ wearing it…”

“And you’re going to keep it all to yourself? Here, can I?” he asks, hands out in front of Caleb to reject even though he doesn’t know quite what Molly is offering. So he simply nods and allows himself to be guided by his shoulders to one of the tall sets of mirrors in the back. Molly remains behind him, but Caleb is able to keep eye contact with him in the mirror as he deftly unbuttons the first few latches on the coat until it’s open to his waist.

He doesn’t stop there, though, and continues to straighten out his shirt, untuck it from his pants and retuck it in a very specific way, and hums in consideration as he compares two different ties to his neck in the mirror. Even though Caleb isn’t sure if he’s supposed to have an input, he lifts his hand to point to the darker one, and Molly makes quick work of fastening it around his neck.

By the time he’s finished, Caleb is more stunned than before. He thought he had looked different before, but now he’s staring at a total stranger.

“Look at you, Caleb!” Mollymauk says excitedly. He stands next to him with his hands on his hips, brimming with pride. “You never told me you were sexy, how can you try and hide this! We’re buying all of this, immediately--Fjord and Jester are going to be _amazed_.”

“It’s, uh, much more to your credit than mine, I could not have picked all of this by myself,” Caleb says, ignoring the satisfied stir in his chest when Molly compliments him. The tiefling says a few quick words to the employee then returns to admiring Caleb in the mirror.

“I know that _I’m_ absolutely in love, but what do you think, Caleb? _Do_ you like it?”

He considers the question, adjusting his tie and turning to look at himself from every angle in the mirror. Nott and his friends would surely never recognize him if they saw him now, like this. This is never how he’s looked or how he’s dressed, and though it isn’t something he could wear often it is… nice. He’s never put effort into his appearance before, and as much as it felt like pulling teeth to get here, he has to admit that _he does look nice_.

“I… it does look good, doesn’t it?” Caleb says, and Molly pats his shoulder.

“That’s an understatement, my good man. Now, come, we should leave before I get the urge to continue dressing you up like my personal Ken doll and allow you to escape.”

Caleb laughs along, though the sound isn’t quite as bright and melodic as Mollymauk’s. He redresses in the fitting room, looking at himself and his current clothes a little differently now. Molly takes the new clothes from him as he changes one piece at a time, and by the time he leaves the fitting room, he finds Mollymauk is already at the register with the entire ensemble wrapped nicely in a bag.

The tiefling grins, wiggling his fingers beneath the strings of the bag as Caleb follows him out the door, gawking. “I thought--the entire point of this was that I was paying for the violin by buying an outfit!”

“I changed my mind,” Mollymauk hums playfully. “And I can do that, because I have already paid, and the violin is already in my car and I will not be returning it until it is immaculate.”

“I can’t let you do that, Molly, I--”

Mollymauk’s head snaps his direction when he speaks, and Caleb falters at the surprised look he receives. It feels as if he’s about to be seriously reprimanded before another smile comes to Mollymauk’s lips--one of pure _delight_.

“You called me Molly,” he says, and Caleb pauses.

He did, didn’t he? The nickname swept through his mind so quickly he didn’t even register he said it. It’s just… faster, and more convenient to use shorthand in regular conversation like this.

He hears Mollymauk chuckle at his silence. “Have I finally bought your friendship, Caleb?”

“ _Bought_?” Caleb sputters. “No! I am not your friend just because you have done all of this for me, I am not so shallow!”

“But we _are_ friends?”

Damned tiefling.

He doesn’t even try arguing, knowing his words will be twisted back on him regardless. The longer it goes on the more Mollymauk will press him about being friends or not, or even confuse him more with different offers and gifts he doesn’t deserve. For the first time, though, the idea of friendship doesn’t sound that bad. Mollymauk, who he’s known for less than two weeks, who is very good at guitar, very generous, and in spite of his grandiose lifestyle, somehow hasn’t pushed him too far yet, is not a bad man. Caleb’s beginning to think he might even be a good man. A very good man.

If Nott heard he had made a new friend in less than two years of meeting, she would lose her mind. He tells himself that the thought of her reacting to his progress is the only reason he’s smiling when they climb into the car. He settles back comfortably in his seat, glad to be sitting after everything today.

Mollymauk remains quiet as he starts the car up, and before he can say anything, Caleb takes a deep breath.

“So, what did you mean by ‘gigs?’”


	4. Ready To Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ready to start - arcade fire

When Caleb was young, before he even entered middle school, he remembers his parents taking him out to a rock concert. They said they wanted to expand his tastes in music as much as possible, to broaden his horizons in all things before he made a choice for his life. Maybe he won’t choose music, his father had said, leaving the option for other careers open to Caleb even though they all already knew he had decided. There was nothing else for him.

He wonders why that memory was buried so far in the back of his mind, now. It only returns to him when he and Nott enter the venue, her holding onto one of his pant legs so they don’t get separated. “This isn’t what I expected when you said some local band’s concert,” she says, looking through the forest of legs around her. “This is…”

“Yeah. A lot bigger.”

Caleb expected a bar with an open mic night, or any other sleazy location that just needed to fill its schedule to keep its drunken patrons entertained. He knows how the small band scene works just from listening to his classmates as well as his own friend, Fjord, for as little about his band he tells them.

This, though, is a concert hall--albeit a small one, but it’s a space created specifically for playing music and nothing else. The tickets are general admission, but the name of Molly’s band is written up on boards and even a banner that covers the top of the stage. The crowd here came specifically for music, to see people play live, and it’s Molly’s band that’s playing. He isn’t quite sure if they’re big enough that people would come to see  _ them _ specifically, but the people around him do seem awfully excited nevertheless.

“Do you think Fjord’s band has this much a turnout?” Nott asks.

“No clue,” Caleb says. Fjord doesn’t talk much about his band, and when he does it’s just about Jester. They didn’t meet in the band, but their relationship definitely started because of it. Caleb doesn’t think even Beau’s been to one of their concerts, just because Fjord never  _ talks _ about it. They always passed it off as mere embarrassment because they weren’t that good--which Caleb understood and was more than happy to not have to attend any kind of event like this.

Like  _ this _ . He manages to scoot them further towards an unembellished wall, with Nott tugging him closer to the stage than he expected she would want to get. They land somewhere in the middle at the wall, and Caleb is relieved to feel the cool cement on his back when they finally stop; there’s  _ far _ more people here than he thought there would be. It should probably be impressive, as it means Mollymauk’s band does not completely suck, but he merely focuses on what trouble it causes for him in the present. He’s never quite been fond of crowds.

On the other hand, Nott appears to be buzzing with excitement. People naturally clear a path around her until she’s able to see the stage (though Caleb sadly doesn’t think that was their intention) and she keeps a vice grip on his pant leg. “This is kind of exciting, isn’t it, Caleb!” she chirps, eyes trained on the stage. Nobody has come out yet, but any moment they should.

“That is certainly one word for this chaos,” he shouts above the chattering crowd, and his last word is drowned out as people begin to cheer. The lights dim and his attention is drawn back to the stage. Looks like they got here just in time.

The lights on stage shift from white to blue, figures on the sides moving around until the first one comes out on stage. A very tall, very muscular young woman stomps out, only offering the crowd a small wave and a smile before she lands at a seat on the drums and keeps her eyes trained on the side of the stage she just entered from.

The second person to come out is a sweet, much more lithe young woman with long black hair covering her face. She waves a clawed hand to the audience who cheer wildly as Caleb notices that she does, in fact, appear to have dragon in her bloodline. She poses that side of her face away from the audience. 

In the back of his mind Caleb thinks, if the first two band members are this interesting, he can’t imagine the others can compare.

And yet he’s still surprised when the next member walks out. He stares, gawking as Fjord gives a fist pump on stage and picks up the bass guitar waiting on his side of the stage. Below, he just hears Nott say “well would you look at that!” in a perfectly reasonable amount of surprise. He knows Fjord had never wanted to talk about his band, but he never guessed it was because of… well, he actually still isn’t sure. But he won’t be happy to find Caleb and Nott here.

Jester comes next, skipping and twirling around joyfully in a fitted blue dress with knee high boots and a frilled jacket. Some kind of glitter across her cheeks catches beneath the light with every little turn she does. She sticks out her tongue and flips the audience off with both hands which, for some reason, they all seem really into. She stands at the side center of the stage with, of all things, a keytar.

And then comes Molly. He shines bright beneath the lights of the stage, wearing a bright purple jacket with all kinds of patterns that Caleb thinks is an amalgamation of every horror he experienced at the store the other day. Beneath he wears a simple white v-neck and plain black leather pants, an entire jeweller’s worth of necklaces, bracelets, and rings across his entire body. His boots are similar to Jester’s with much less of a heel, but a heel nonetheless.

He and Jester high five as they meet in the middle of the stage, and he picks up an electric guitar before turning to the audience.

The two of them talk to the audience for a little, which just consists of them asking questions or saying anything and the crowd cheering in reply. Caleb barely registers any of it as he tries to make sense of everything in his head. He guesses it shouldn’t be a complete surprise that Fjord and Molly are in the same band. They’re linked together by sister and fiance, and yet he’s never heard Fjord mention anything about the eccentric man. Then again, Fjord doesn’t talk about their band  _ at all _ . From the looks of it, the audience receives them well, so Caleb can’t imagine it’s  because they’re horrible like he and Nott assumed.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Jester throws up her fist and yells in a deep voice, “Get ready for the Mighty Nein!”

Maybe the crowd  _ is _ familiar with them, because Caleb doesn’t see anyone else counting the members on stage like he is. What a stupid name.

The lights dim, and at once, the scene bursts into life with the first beat of the drums.

The crowd, seemingly already recognizing the song, clap along to the specific beat as the other band members bring the sound to life as their instruments glow underneath the bright stage lights. Jester’s fingers splay along her keytar as she hops along to the beat, managing to avoid getting tangled in the cord around her feet as she twirls. Fjord may not be as enthusiastic, but he moves along the stage as well, head bobbing to the sound as he plays a steady bassline. Even behind the immobile synthesizer, the young dragon featured girl smiles and nods along as her shoulders bounce. The drummer seems to be the only one not smiling, but doesn’t seem displeased or anything.

With Jester at the front, Mollymauk’s guitar leads all the other sounds into one clear rhythm and binds them together. For a few seconds, everything besides the keys stop, lights dimming again, and when they all come back on, Molly and Jester step to the twin mic stands.

Their voices are not very similar at all. Jester’s is high and playful, her heavy accent putting a loud emphasis on each word from her mouth. On the other hand, Mollymauk’s voice is deep and sultry, fading behind his sister’s voice when their lyrics join. They switch between having individual verses, going back and forth on the bridge, and reuniting at the chorus with wide grins thrown each other’s way. 

As different as they are, their individual voices both suit the song and its lyrics. Caleb only has the mind to pay attention to the words more than halfway through, but they aren’t that difficult to grasp. The song follows some kind of personal uprising after gathering their ‘people’ all bearing metaphorical weapons. Jester’s voice frames the song as an explosion, this great burst of energy that’s been built up for years, almost. Molly’s voice plays a different tune to the same story, more akin to a slowly burnt passion that has been long in the works, creeping up in an unexpected, venomous revolution.

Altogether, they’re loud. Their music is upbeat and relies heavily on the synthesizer, unlike the music that Caleb would ever listen to. They aren’t very professional, either; Jester flirts with Fjord the entire show, running into his space and trying to bother him as he plays the bass. Molly does the same thing with the dragon girl and their drummer, albeit less spontaneous as he intrudes their space, leaning closer to each until both women crack large smiles and put more flare into their playing.

When the two are at the front of the stage together, they dance. It should be difficult since they’re both holding two handed instruments, but when they get a moment they don’t have any notes or even when they  _ are _ still playing, they happily swing back and forth together. Jester skips around Molly, he pretends to lean his entire weight against her back, they kick their legs in time together, and they laugh during the instrumentals at something the other said away from the mic. The latter is a common theme, Caleb notices, as Mollymauk often turns to look over his shoulder at the drummer and say something they can’t hear but makes her smile.

Even with the chaos, with the genre of music Caleb has never gone out of his way to listen to, their mix-matched visuals and silly attitude…

Nott shouts up to him over the noise a few songs in. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

For some reason, Caleb immediately nods, and he only realizes he’s smiling when Nott grins back up at him.

They’re good.

The crowd is into everything they do, laughing and cheering along with every transition and silly little thing they do. For all Fjord has done to avoid talking about his band, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he stepped on stage. He’s full of something Caleb hasn’t seen in him before, some enthusiastic quality that makes Caleb’s normal, everyday friend  _ shine _ brilliantly on stage.

It isn’t just him, either. Even the seemingly stoic drummer, or the nervous looking dragon girl, move fluidly with clear purpose on stage. They all look to each other and smile, holding conversations with their music on stage as they appear to duel out whose solo can reign the loudest.

They’re full of life, and Caleb’s heart swells as he realizes that they aren’t the only ones; everyone in this small concert hall is feeling the same thing.

The lyrics to their songs ring out with truths no one wants to confront alone, but in a hall filled with hundreds of others, they ring off every wall as everyone screams them out. Songs about loneliness, about insecurity and fear of the future all laid onto an aggressively smooth and catchy tune grasp Caleb by his shoulders and pull him into the moment.

The anxiety that lays dormant within him at all times is still there, but for an hour, Caleb forgets it’s there, too busy trying to tear his eyes away from the stage.

The entire room shines brilliantly, like nothing he’s ever expected, but definitely felt before.

The man he has been puzzled by for two weeks grabs his hand and takes him for another whirlwind of emotion that Caleb hasn’t felt in a long time. Mollymauk truly comes alive on the stage in a way that Caleb didn’t know the tiefling was missing until he’d brought it up. When he spoke of his band in that car and invited Caleb here, his eyes glittered with a lively enthusiasm he hasn’t seen in him before. 

Now, he stands atop the stage, practically glowing as his voice booms off the walls and into the pit of cheering youths on the ground. All the flamboyance and extravagance he exudes in his everyday life has a place on the stage that makes sense, and Caleb suddenly doesn’t understand how he didn’t immediately know that Mollymauk belonged in this kind of environment. It’s undeniable now; the man was born for this stage, as cramped as it may be. He and Jester command the venue as their own. The entire band, every single person on stage, has each audience member entranced. They have full control of the room and the mood surrounding it, able to manipulate the atmosphere by will as if with some kind of magic.

Caleb’s blood rushes in his veins so quickly it scares him. The sensation isn’t unfamiliar, but it has been a long time since he has felt like this, thinking himself incapable for a long time. He doesn’t cheer along, he doesn’t join in the clapping or the call and responses, but he still… has fun.

It has been years since he has seen live music outside of the classical genre. He almost forgets that anything else exists.

By the time the concert is coming to a close, their songs begin to mellow out. They never quite reach the level of calm that a slow song might have, but they are gentler and smoother than the rock they were playing before. Jester dances around much less, focusing on her playing and singing the same as Molly though the two continue to crowd each other playfully. He recognizes a look on Fjord’s face that he’s made around him a few times, one that says ‘yeah, I’m happy here’ that's usually reserved for when the four of them go out and have a stupidly entertaining night.

It’s a good atmosphere after all the loud shouting. The lights are dimmer, the music smooth as honey, and the siblings’ voices reflect the shift in mood perfectly. Caleb watches them intently, studying how each member acts as they perform on stage and unable to find anything but pure delight on each of their faces, though it varies in intensity.

When his gaze makes it back to Mollymauk, he thinks for just a moment that the tiefling has somehow recognized him in this crowd in the dark of the wall. He thinks the smile Mollymauk makes might be directed towards him, and then he’s moving on stage as normal again.

The song ends, and before the last guitar note ends, Mollymauk and Jester huddle around the same mic.

“Thank you all so much for coming!” they yell, grinning from ear to ear as the audience applauds. “We’re The Mighty Nein!”

This time, Caleb claps along with Nott as the band begins to exit the stage. She seems to be just as ecstatic as the rest of the crowd, and it’s obvious The Mighty Nein has entranced her the same way with one show. “That was so fucking cool! And that was Fjord! Our Fjord did something cool!” she rants, and Caleb laughs.

“I’m just as amazed as you are. To think he’s been hiding something this…” He pauses, searching carefully for the right word before smiling down at Nott. “...fun?”

“It  _ was _ fun, wasn’t it!” she cheers, hanging onto the end of his jacket as the people around him begin to file out of the room. This time when she looks up at him, Caleb thinks he might see something like pride reflected in her eyes. He doesn’t say anything about it, but it makes his chest ache                                                                                                                                    for just a moment.

“Caleb?”

He looks to his side, making equally surprised eye contact with a Beauregard who appears to have been on her way out. Nott’s the first to run up to her, weaving through the moving crowd. “What’re you doing here, Beau? I thought you hated music.”

“Just because I’m the only one who doesn’t play an instrument doesn’t mean I hate music, goddamn,” she says, laughing as Nott grabs onto her hands and pulls the two of them back towards Caleb.

“Did Fjord tell you he was playing tonight?” Caleb asks once she’s within not-shouting earshot.

She shakes her head. “No way, I had no idea he was even in this band. I uh, got invited by somebody else.”

Caleb looks around them, trying to make out anyone who seems to have lost a companion. “Well, don’t let us hold you up, won’t they be leaving in this crowd?”

“They uh, might not be in the crowd,” she says, and Caleb raises his brows. She starts up before he can say anything about it. “What about  _ you _ though? We can barely get you out of the house, much less for something this loud!”

“Oh, ja, well I was also invited. By somebody not in the crowd.”

“Did Mollymauk invite you too, Beau?” Nott asks, and she crosses her arms.

“No, I’m actually, uh… here to see the drummer.”

“... a hot, tall, muscular woman you’ve been meeting at the gym?” he asks.

Beau narrows her eyes at Caleb. “Jester’s brother?”

They stare each other down for a solid minute before coming to a silent, mutual agreement; they will not talk about this to anyone else.

Besides Nott, who is bouncing up and down beside them. “I can’t believe you both know people in the band, that’s so cool!”

“Nott,” Beau says, “ _ you _ know Fjord too.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t really count. You know that.”

Beau shrugs, and Caleb makes a mental apology to their dear fourth friend. The girls are far more brutal than he is.

He knows they aren’t entirely serious, though. They’ve all been curious about Fjord’s playing as he’s only ever brought his bass out at house parties to play along Nott’s violin in an interesting mix of sounds and genres. They knew he was good, but they also knew he focused solely on the band he was in and continued to hide from them.

Caleb has a sinking suspicion that neither Mollymauk nor that drummer would’ve told Fjord that his friends were coming. It’s more likely the drummer doesn’t even know they’re related. Mollymauk is just mischievous.

“Hey, Caleb! And company!” a familiar voice calls out. Speak of the devil. Caleb turns to see a purple head sticking out of a door by the stage, waving them in as he covers himself behind the door.

Nott looks to Caleb. “Should we go? We can just bail right now if you want,” she offers, and as grateful as Caleb is for her constant supervision and help, he knows he shouldn’t turn the man down. Instead he just takes her hand in his and tells Beau to come along, proceeding to the open door that’s held open for them.

As soon as they’re through, Mollymauk beams. “I didn’t think you’d actually come! I hoped so, but I thought you might be too busy.”

‘Busy’ is a very kind way of saying socially avoidant and overly anxious, Caleb thinks. He shakes his head and offers as natural a smile as he can manage. “No, my uh, schedule was clear tonight, actually. I thought it might be… interesting.” Which isn’t exactly the word he wanted to use, and he watches Molly’s brows raise as they continue walking through the narrow hall to the back of the stage. Behind them, Beau and Nott chat about how they feel like celebrities or something.

“And was it?”

“Hm?”

“Interesting,” Mollymauk provides, and Caleb laughs awkwardly.

“I would not be back here if it wasn’t,” he says, making Molly’s smile widen, and the commotion behind them suddenly picks up.

“Ooh, good one Caleb!” Beau shouts, hands around her mouth as if she were not right behind them.

“I’m swooning!” Nott also shrieks. Caleb throws both of them a look over his shoulder, face already heating up out of embarrassment as the two giggle and fall a few more feet behind.

They both  _ know _ that’s not what he’s trying to do, and yet they try and humiliate him anyways. He only flushes out of shame, not because he has any real reason to. When he meets Molly’s eye, the tiefling’s expression hasn’t changed a bit.

“I like your friends,” he says, and Caleb rolls his eyes.

“That makes one of us.”

Molly laughs loudly, his voice reverberating off the cement walls of the hallway as they finally reach a door at the end. It only takes a minute or so longer of wandering the equipment and rooms backstage before they finally reach the only door with some kind of marking on it. At some point, it probably used to be a star, but years of wear and tear have dulled its points and stolen its left hand.

The inside is much nicer. Nott, having picked up where they are, immediately runs into the room while Beau and Caleb follow behind Molly. He hears Fjord first.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Nott?!”

“You cannot hide from us forever, Fjord! We tracked you down! Now you have to tell us  _ all _ your secrets!”

“We did not know you were playing, Fjord, this is coincidence,” Caleb explains in monotone, listening to Beau laugh beside him.

The lounge is no bigger than his living with a bathroom attached to the back between all the mirrors and vanities. The rest of the room is filled with couches and bar stools for however many band members to make themselves comfortable while waiting backstage. Only when Caleb inspects the run down, chipped paint on the ceiling does he realize that the only lights in the room are coming from those brightly lit vanities.

Sitting on a loveseat with Jester and now Nott on the arm, Fjord covers his face and draws out a groan. “ _ All _ of you are here, are you kidding me? How’d you fucking find out?”

Beau scoffs and crosses her arms in front of him. “We have other connections besides your secretive and rude ass,” she says confidently, losing her air of pride as soon as she looks over to where the drummer from earlier is sitting on a couch with the dragon girl. “Uh, what’s up, Yasha?”

Yasha smiles, holding up a half filled glass in her direction. “I’m glad you could make it, Beau.”

“ _ Yasha _ is the girl you were talking--”

“Can it, Fjord!” Beau shouts, kicking his leg on her way over to the empty seat beside Yasha. He doesn’t particularly cower, but Jester laughs loudly by his side and throws her arm around his shoulders.

“I like your friends!” she says, holding his jaw in one hand and trying to force a smile on his face.

Fjord rolls his eyes, obviously fighting a genuine smile. “That makes one of us.”

Next to him, Caleb hears Molly snort. Then the tiefling turns to him, gesturing to two empty bar stools perched behind the couch that Jester and Fjord are sitting on. Given it’s the only open seating in the house, Caleb sits down agreeably and watches from the back as they all mingle.

The dragon girl clasps her hands together, looking around the room excitedly. “We’ve never had this many people back here before! Well, not since that time we really pissed off some sap backstage and he called security,” she says, and Jester detaches from Fjord to point a stern finger in the other woman’s face.

“He deserved it though, sneaking into  _ our _ room!”

Fjord quickly chimes in. “He was a stage hand and he was  _ cleaning _ it because you two got glitter everywhere.”

“It wasn’t  _ our _ glitter though, he should’ve gotten mad at Molly,” Jester drawls, leaning back slowly until her head is tilted upside down over the back of the couch and staring at Mollymauk. Now that they’re close, Caleb can just make out the sheer shimmer of makeup and supposedly the same glitter in question across Jester’s face, concentrated mostly on her lips.

He laughs, putting his hands on either side of her face and squishing her cheeks together. “I use it to decorate myself, not the entire room, sissy.”

Even with her cheeks being squished, Jester manages to give him a toothy grin. “You have glitter on your nose,” she teases, and Mollymauk curiously lifts a hand to touch his face. Immediately, Jester shrieks with laughter, pointing at his hands. Sure enough, the same glitter that was dusted over her cheeks rubbed off onto his fingers and actually  _ is _ scattered across his nose now. “Idiot!”

Mollymauk huffs, still smiling as he takes both hands and makes a show of gently dotting his cheekbones as if actually applying makeup. It just makes Jester giggle even more, especially when he runs a final glittery blue finger over his lips. “Well? What do you think?” he asks, and Jester snorts. Mollymauk turns to Caleb instead. “Caleb you do not have the fashion sense of a teenage girl, you tell me.”

Caleb knows it’s a joke and he ought to reply with something witty, but nothing clever comes to mind. Just like with Jester, he can now see all the makeup Molly has once they’re sat close together like this. He has on far less than her, more focused on his eyes and lashes than anywhere else. His lips were bare until he swiped them with the sparkly residue on his hands, and now his smile shimmers with every catch of the light as he jokingly turns his face back and forth to show it off.

Caleb just laughs and shakes his head. “You are asking the same man whose fashion you just mocked the other day.”

“You came around, the vest you picked out was lovely!” Mollymauk agrees while turning his hands over to see just how much glitter stuck through on his hands. He leans forward and wipes his hands on Jester’s neck, and she giggles up at him before meeting Caleb’s eye.

“You two went  _ shopping _ together?” she says, and Caleb definitely does not agree with the suggestive tone in her voice. He’s only met the woman a few times, but he’s heard more than enough from Fjord about how much worse she is with gossip than Beau or Nott. 

“We did,” Molly readily admits, “it’s a secret, though. Caleb, do you know everyone here?”

The subject change is more than welcome, and Caleb shakes his head. “Just you, Fjord, and Jester.”

Mollymauk grabs the seat of his stool and carefully scoots a little closer to Caleb so he can lean close and point to the couch across the room. “That’s Yasha, our drummer. She looks big and scary, and she definitely is, but she’s also a sweetheart. She and I go way back.”

“You two are friends?” Their palettes certainly would not suggest so.

“Absolutely, I adore that woman. She’s quiet and awkward too, you’d get along.”

Caleb merely snorts at that and tries to pass it off. “Next to her?”

“Caliana, another dear of ours. She’s Jester’s best friend, keeps to herself most of the time **.** You wouldn’t think anything of her until she gets on stage. Her synth is  _ unmatched _ .”

Caleb remembers it. She didn’t particularly go as hard as Fjord or Yasha, and she didn’t dance around like Mollymauk or Jester, but her playing held more than enough personality.

“Do you know Beau?” Caleb whispers, nodding to his friend who is currently engaged in what looks like the most unnatural, uncomfortable conversation with Yasha he’s ever seen. She’s trying to look cool and laid back, but she’s stiff as a board. Her arm laid over the back of the couch is posed at a horribly awkward angle, and her smile is all around awful.

“No, not really,” Molly says. “Yasha only mentioned last minute she invited somebody, which is very surprising since she never does. We don’t talk about her stuff as much.”

So Beau  _ was _ able to talk to her after their conversation about it over breakfast that day. It’s good to see his friend succeeding, even if she is failing miserably right now. “Can you tell… how it is going?” he asks, unable to make anything out of Yasha’s expression.

Mollymauk stifles a laugh with his hand and meets Caleb’s eye. “Great, I think.”

They stay there for a surprisingly long while, chatting between the eight of them amicably before someone makes the wise idea of going out to a bar. That person is, of course, Nott, and everyone seems generally enthused by the idea and heads out with little complaint.

Caleb tags along, both not wanting to leave Nott by herself and not wanting to be the odd one out. The cool winter air is a relief on his face after the unbearable heat and humidity of the crowd, and he breathes the cold air deep into his hot lungs. The lights as well are much dimmer and allows his eyes to relax as they're cast in dull yellow from the streetlights. On the walk from the concert hall into the city, he lingers behind and watches everyone else interact. Nott finds a comfy place between Jester and Caliana who both speak very animatedly, occasionally dragging Fjord into conversation. Beau hasn’t left Yasha’s side (or maybe it’s the other way around), and it seems to be going better than before. If the punches Beau throws to the air are anything to go by, Caleb figures they must have hit it off finally talking about the gym or martial arts.

They’re a good group of people, Caleb thinks. Not only have they fully accepted Nott and treat her like just another one of the girls, but Fjord and Beau both smile ear to ear in their respective conversations. These are all people that they like, that make his moody and occasionally depressing friends happy tonight.

The moodiest and most depressing out of all of them will always be himself, though. Caleb stuffs his hands into his pockets, as if his gloves aren’t warm enough.

Beside him, Molly speaks up. “What did you think?” he asks.

Caleb stares at him quizzically for a moment, too focused on the company to understand the question. The concert. “I didn’t expect it,” Caleb says honestly. “And I honestly didn’t expect to enjoy it, either.”

“You said it was interesting, earlier.”

“Ja, it was. You are all very talented, it was impressive.” The compliment makes Mollymauk smile. He pulls his coat a little tighter to himself and right, he’s still just wearing simple clothes beneath in the middle of February. Caleb can’t imagine those leather pants do much for warmth. Not that he’s looked at them, recently, or anything.

“Was it your first rock concert?” Molly asks, and Caleb tuts in exasperation.

“I do not live in a classical bubble just because I used to play piano,” he says, and Mollymauk laughs while holding his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry! You just didn’t seem like the type for that kinda thing.”

He isn’t… wrong, really. Caleb hasn’t been out to see any kind of live music in years, and the only exposition he’s had to rock and any kind of modern music is inside stores or restaurants. He hardly ever listens to the radio, and most of that is old anyways.

But he is not  _ all _ stuffy. “I saw Pumat-4, you know. Before they retired.”

He watches in satisfaction as Mollymauk’s eyes go wide, his mouth falling open in shock. “ _ What _ ? Caleb, you’ve been hiding all kinds of good taste that you secretly have from me! That was quite a while ago, too.”

“I was young, my parents took me with them. I think I still have the guitar pick that Pumat Prime threw out at the end…” It’s hard to bite down the cocky smile he’s holding back. So he doesn’t.

Molly throws his head back and laughs loudly without a care for anyone they pass on the street. Their friends a few paces ahead of them now don’t even bother looking back to check on them, all too absorbed in their own conversation. “You’re absolutely fucking with me now.”

“I am not fucking with you,” Caleb says matter-of-factly. “I thought it was cool, but my father knew better and immediately shoved it in his pocket to protect from the other people up front.”

“Up front, at a Pumat-4 concert, caught the guitar pick” Molly repeats to himself in disbelief, shaking his head. “Outrageous. You know that’s my dream, right?”

“That is a pretty bad dream, since they retired to pharmacy years ago--”

“No, not seeing Pumat-4,” Mollymauk says. He holds Caleb’s eye, and not for the first time, Caleb finds himself lost in his intense red stare. “I want to be like them, someday. To take our band that high where people talk about us like we’re talking about Pumat now.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise, per se, but Caleb can’t say he expected it. Logistically, it makes sense that Mollymauk, who he just saw perform rock on stage as if for the first time with life, would want to be famous like other bands he looks up to. But it is only tonight that he’s learned this side of Mollymauk as opposed to the student he’s been helping learn piano the past three weeks.

It isn’t surprising as much as it rests easy like ‘ah, I get it now.’ His style of playing, his issues with piano, his wardrobe and his walk and the way he talks all make sense. He watches Mollymauk turn back to the friends that are well ahead of them now, staring at their backs with something like pride and determination in his eyes.

“You seem well on your way,” Caleb says. “The audience was a big fan of your all’s work.”

“We’re very lucky to have reached even that many people so that they want to come back,” Molly says. “But I’ve always had--and don’t laugh at me--but this kind of… condition that I’ve always been looking for to know that we’ve made it. Something that when it happens I can say ‘yeah, we’re really in it, now!’”

“What is it?”

Mollymauk reaches into his pocket, fumbling around a bit before he retrieves his hand and pulls out a guitar pick. It’s plain white, not quite brand new, but there aren’t any markings on it. “I’ve always thought that once I’m able to end a show with throwing out my guitar pick,” he starts, clenching the pick in his hand and holding it over his head as if about to launch it, “and watch people in the crowd fight over it, to not only want but dive for something from our band and treasure it…  _ That’s _ when I’ll believe we’ve made it.”

He lowers his fist back out in front of him, showing Caleb the pick one more time before shoving it back into his pocket.

Caleb doesn’t laugh. “I think it’s possible,” he says, the words coming out more sincere than he initially intended. But it is not a lie.

Molly turns back to smile at him, eyes genuine and pure as he speaks of his dream, and Caleb’s throat closes. It’s a good thing silence takes over for them, then, because he could not speak if he wanted to. Something scary stirs in his stomach.

Neon signs atop dusty bars on the sidewalk and dim lamp lights cast all of their shadows in multiple directions until none of them are distinguishable from each other. He sees his friends and their new company half a block in front of them, walking before their blurred shadows on the ground that have melded into one stroke of grey paint across the ground.

The red light of a dingy bar casts over the two of them, and Caleb thinks that, reflected off the blue glitter that’s stuck to Molly’s face, he twinkles purple against the cityscape. He can’t stand to watch his face for too long, afraid of becoming absorbed in his intricate features and makeup that he hasn’t considered noticing before.

It’s only when he lowers his head does he finds their shadows preceding them as they pass another streetlight, watching them melt together as well.

Nothing changes, not yet. It will be a long while before anything like that could be conceived, and it is very far from this moment. 

Nothing changes, but for the first time, Caleb has the dangerous thought that it could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fact molly is in a band is finally relevant after it being the entire premise of this fic for four chapters


	5. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is "pain" by war on drugs
> 
> which makes it sound like this is a sad chapter but it's actually pretty happy! song isn't that sad either, just thoughtful

When the four of them meet up for breakfast on Monday after the weekend, they can all feel the shift between them. They speak as normal, going through their schedules for today and talking about assignments, but that isn’t all. Now they can playfully jab at Fjord with compliments that he brushes off, and a new running joke about Caleb being the most social out of all of them runs amok. He embraces it jokingly and boasts about all his plans with Mollymauk that he doesn’t have. It doesn’t do much to deter them from the idea there’s more to their relationship than there actually is.

“When do you all play next, Fjord?” Beau asks, mouth full of food.

Fjord rolls his eyes and makes a point of swallowing before he responds. “Dunno. We’re friends with the guy who owns the place, Molly knows him from the shop. He slides us in when there’s a cancellation or some free time.”

“What shop?” Beau asks, making a point of filling her mouth with food before speaking. It comes out as almost complete gibberish. “I don’t know the Molly lore.”

Nott pipes up first. “Mollymauk works in a  _ music _ shop,” she says, flashing Caleb a bright grin. “He repairs instruments there, I hear!”

That first night she came home to find her violin was missing before Caleb could explain, she had all but torn the entire house apart looking for either 1) it or 2) signs of breaking and entering. She had been on her way out the house holding a dagger to her chest when Caleb found her and talked her down from interrogating all the neighbors for information.

Then, she was delighted. Nott hasn’t stopped making side comments about it or thanking him constantly, picking up his tab on meals when they eat out or doing his dishes at home every now and then. Caleb would try and explain the fact he didn’t really pay for it, but it would do serious damage to his reputation to come up with a non-suspicious explanation for his day out shopping with Molly. He knows his friends are already trying to pin some secret affair on them that doesn’t exist, the vultures.

Just as the man’s name pops into his head, Caleb feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

**[9:12 Mollymauk] hey caleb, is it alright if we do seven tonight instead of six?** **  
** **[9:13 Caleb] Sure, that is fine**

The moment he stops texting, he looks up from his phone beneath the table to see Beau’s hard stare on him. He holds her eye, waiting for her to speak, and as soon as she opens her mouth, he starts before her. “So you and Yasha are still talking.”

“So are you and Mollyboy.”

“We have a professional agreement.”

“So do we.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “And that is?”

Beau still doesn’t back down, but she appears shaken by Caleb taking the obvious bait that she doesn’t seem to have any legitimate answer for. “Gym… workout… buddies,” she says, smiling cockily once the last syllable has left her mouth, obviously proud of herself for really selling it.

Caleb takes a deliberately slow drink of his tea, maintaining eye contact. “Lots of physical activity, then.”

“Uh… yeah I mean, I guess--I mean no, not at all!”

“Then you two slack off a lot…?”

She presses her mouth into a hard line. He can see her trying to restrain an outburst, the gears turning in her head to output some kind of witty response. At this point, Fjord and Nott are looking between them dramatically, neither providing any input on the showdown.

“Purple… dick.”

Fjord immediately slams his hands down on the table, whooping loudly. “Get him, Beau! Real  _ zinger _ !” he shouts, holding out his hand for an overly enthusiastic high-five. Nott looks to Caleb desperately, then to Fjord, and back.

“Is she blue, Fjord.” Caleb asks, and the half-orc freezes.

He turns to face Caleb stiffly. “...what?”

Caleb repeats himself, giving him a pointed, unyielding stare. “Is she blue. You know,” he gives him a point look, brows raising to his forehead as he pretends to whisper, “down there?”

“Good one, Caleb, spin it back at ‘em!” Nott cheers as Fjord had, sharing a much tamer high five as Fjord flushes across the table.

Despite being on the same ‘side,’ Beau looks at him expectantly too. He tries to approach the question diplomatically and clears his throat. “Well, as you all know, I am green  _ down there _ , so if tieflings are anything like half-orcs--”

“So when you two--” Caleb tuts suggestively to fill in the blanks, “--does the shade of turquoise change depending on who is on top?”

Beau barks out an unattractive laugh and Fjord throws his hands out. “Alright, we won't tease you about your totally professional new best friend, message received, point taken!”

That is more satisfying to hear than Caleb thought it would be. He sits back in the booth, taking a cool drink of tea as the others return to teasing Fjord about everything under the sun that is blue or green. Now that they have spent more time with Jester, the jokes have only become more specific as they've all taken to her in their own ways. Though Fjord’s teasing has increased drastically, it doesn't quite mean Beau is free from scrutiny now that she's talking to a girl seriously for the first time. Nott is the only one free of any suspicion, and Caleb is more than envious of her situation.

There's no reason to act like Caleb is in the same boat as the other two with some kind of love life worth being teased over. Nothing is happening between him and Molly in the slightest. Can't two men ever just be friends?

He doesn’t dread the lessons like he once did. It isn’t that Molly is no longer strange or mysterious--the opposite, really. After the concert his questions about the man have only increased exponentially, ever stranger than before. But somehow, it isn’t a bad thing. It’s strange, Caleb thinks, how he’s yet to be frightened by all the man’s oddities for as simple as he himself is. He texts more often now, upholding conversations for the sake of it rather than just being polite. Caleb enjoys their talks, interested in what Mollymauk has to say about work or the people that come into the shop. He's quite funny.

Today, Mollymauk has filled his phone’s inbox with updates about the band and some new ideas Caliana has been proposing for a new song. Surprisingly, all the songs he’d heard that night were all original, though Mollymauk says they haven’t had the guts to try and release an album or anything yet. There’s lots of interesting talk to be had about bands when Caleb finds himself actually interested as opposed to when his classmates might try to chat with him about their own accomplishments. 

He doesn’t feel anxious to his stomach when he packs his bag and heads home, actually able to relax for the few hours he has before he must head to Mollymauk’s home. Nott joins him on the couch for lunch and some baking competition that she follows eagerly on television as he reads his own books, both occupied and still present in each other. She provides small comments the entire time and he laughs along, every now and then informing her of some interesting fact from his book on the history of goblin economics before their war with the elves more than four hundred years ago.

When offered, he’s more than happy to hop into her car and be chauffeured to Molly’s. Even if he’s able to take the bus and walk there just fine, it’s nice to have the company. “Did he say they’ll be playing again anytime soon?” she asks as though she hadn't just questioned Fjord this morning, and Caleb shakes his head.

“They are not sure, but he will probably tell me as soon as they do. Would you like to come with me when it comes?”

“I would!” she beams. The gates are usually open when Caleb comes over, so she’s able to pull up into the driveway the full way to the house this time. Nott ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s the entire way, marveling at just how grand the estate is from the outside. “You’d think they were famous rockstars with this mansion!”

“Not them, but their mother is very famous,” Caleb says as he hops out of the car.

Nott rolls down the window to yell after him. “Ask Mollymauk for Caliana’s number, I want to talk to her!”

Caleb smiles and gives her a dutiful salute as she pulls away and he makes his way up the stairs. He hadn’t expected that Nott would actually get along so well with the girls that she would approach them outside of that night. Jester, for all her oddities and eccentricities, seems to be a genuinely sweet and caring young lady, as does Caliana. They would be good friends for Nott. As inaccurate as it is to pin this on himself, Caleb can’t help but feel a little self-satisfied for playing a part in introducing them.

The moment he knocks on the door, it swings open. Instead of inviting him inside, Mollymauk appears and immediately steps out, the door slamming shut behind him. “Thank god you’re punctual,” he says, putting a guiding hand on Caleb’s shoulder as he gently turns the man around and tugs him down the stairs. “We should make it just in time, although I don’t really think it’ll get too crowded too quickly.”

“I, uh--what?” Caleb asks, trailing after Mollymauk as the tiefling walks around the driveway to a large garage that opens with the click of a small device in his hand. They approach the same car Mollymauk had driven them downtown with, and Caleb stands to the side, dumbfounded, as Molly climbs in. “What about, about lessons?”

“I’ve got a better idea! Come on now, hop in, I promise you, you’ll love it,” he calls out the window, and Caleb teeters on his feet.

He is not one for sudden, out of the blue plans like this. He hates surprises, as much as he loves giving them to his friends, and he hates being introduced to new situations where he hasn’t prepared himself mentally. Really, this entire thing is horrible, and he looks back and forth between the house and Molly. 

“I… don't really just join in surprises I don't know about,” Caleb finally says, not moving from his spot in front of the car.

A look passes over Molly’s face before he offers an apologetic smile. “It’s music; there’s a small band playing downtown I wanted to show you. Much quieter, much chiller vibe. It shouldn’t be very long?”

Another concert, huh. The one he went to last week was the first Caleb had been to in a long time. He would immediately reject going to another upbeat, intense concert with no notice, but… something quiet does not sound bad. He has always enjoyed slower, gentler sounds when he is studying, and he had a good time the last concert.

It only takes one second of lowering his walls to decide to say ‘fuck it’ and hop into the passenger seat, and the moment he does, he must spend the entirety of the drive convincing himself this was not a bad idea.

Molly starts the car up immediately, driving without any urgency for all the talk of timeliness he had been giving. “If you don’t like it, we’ll bail and come back, but I heard about this thing earlier this morning, yeah? And I thought, ‘well, don’t I know a fellow who might enjoy this,’ and I just had to see what you’d think,” Mollymauk explains.

“You did not plan this?”

“Not until Cali told me about it this morning when I texted you, no. I’ll be honest, I don’t really know anything about it, but sometimes that’s the fun part, yeah?”

Caleb huffs out a small chuckle at his own expense. “I much prefer to prepare weeks ahead of time for any kind of outing, to be honest.”

“Did you enjoy the last concert?”

He hesitates. “We talked about it, of course I did.”

Mollymauk turns to offer him a smile as they reach a red light. “Then trust me once more. If you don’t like it, we’ll go back, we’ll have lessons, I won’t drag you into madness without permission again.”

Even though he says it like that, Caleb cannot help but want to correct him. It isn’t that Mollymauk has dragged him here unwillingly, he merely presented an opportunity. In truth, it’s Caleb who made this short-sighted decision to come and go out to god knows where. The distinction is important, given it isn’t something Caleb has done in a very long time. Maybe it isn’t something he should feel the need to give himself credit for. Or maybe it is something he should continue working on.

It’s hard to decide what kind of person he wants to be when he has only been living off survival instincts for so long, never really presented with choices with immediate weight. Although these are small things, like going out to shop, or spending an evening at a concert, they are always framed with the urgency of time or money constricting him. There’s an artificial weight to them that forces him to decide, and somehow, he hasn’t backed out in fear just yet. But he knows it’ll take just one bad experience to reject anything in the future altogether.

They end up downtown again, and the venue this time is big enough to have its own parking lot. Caleb is surprised to find them at some sort of event hall, or at least so the name suggests. The outside is a simple brick exterior with the title lit up in old fashioned lights on the side with a rusted sign backing it. As evening now approaches, the street lights try to flicker on, most of them burning out before they can. The illumination from the windows and lights atop the building as well as the plethora of neon bar signs across the street are enough to give Caleb sight.

He climbs out of the car cautiously, taking enough time for Mollymauk to walk around and join him. He gets them walking to the front door. “Usually people will have big events in here, kind of like parties or wedding receptions something on the first floor where the spaces are bigger.”

“Please say you are not taking me to a party or some kind of club,” Caleb pleads, and Molly laughs.

“I’m not sure if I would bother trying. Come, this way.” An event must already be planned, because the moment they step inside, Caleb watches as dressed up men and women meander about the halls with drinks in their hands, chatting loudly. The only lights in the rustic building seem to be coming from the ballrooms themselves and affixed above office rooms and reception desks. He can just hear quiet music pulsing from one of the rooms, and as they walk past, Caleb peeks in to see a gaggle of adults just slightly older than him dancing in the center of the floor.

Mollymauk guides them past the main hall and up a flight of black stairs to the second floor. The lights are dimmer here, appearing as no more than a few candles lining the walls would provide and rely more on the sunset coming in from the windows. Here, the doorways are much shorter, leading them into smaller rooms. They go about halfway down the hallway before they join a small gathering of people being cut off by a bouncer. Mollymauk says a few words to the man that Caleb can’t hear, and he lets them in without issue.

It’s larger than the sitting room the have lessons in, but smaller than the event halls downstairs. The ceilings are only low in comparison to the ballrooms and actually are decently high. One side of the room houses a bar with colored lights shining behind a row of bottles on the shelves, though most of the seats there are empty. The crowd that has gathered here all assemble by the other corner of the room where the most commotion is taking place.

Although no one is on top, Caleb can see the stage from back here and the instruments assembled upon it. He turns to say something to Mollymauk to find the tiefling already walking towards the bar.

“Would you like anything, Caleb? I’m driving, so don’t worry and enjoy yourself,” he says, already waving at the barkeep as Caleb struggles to stay at his side.

“This is a concert?” he asks as they sit down at the bar.

Molly nods. “A small one, but yes. Drink?”

Caleb considers the question and looks back at the people gathered by the stage. Then back to Molly. “Please.”

The tiefling laughs and orders something on his behalf, all but throwing a number of bills the bartender’s way to pay for it. At this point, Caleb isn’t sure if he’s ever going to be allowed to pay for anything. Not that he’s complaining about a free drink when his mind is going a million miles an hour trying to decipher the scene. A short glass with a lime garnish is put down in front of him, and he immediately takes a sip.

“Why are we here?” he asks after recovering from the taste. It’s  _ strong _ and exactly what he needs to calm down.

“To enjoy some music!” Mollymauk says as if it’s obvious. He gestures for Caleb to stand and follow him to the side where a few wooden tables and tall stools are arranged. They settle somewhere near the middle where everything on stage is still visible. “We’ll stay back here, though. There’s no reason to get up in there for these guys.”

“Do you know who is playing?”

He shrugs. “Not really. Looked them up before we came, and they’re good, but strikes me as more as a sit back and enjoy a good night kind of vibe. Not quite the on-your-feet rock that we do.”

The lights on the stage dim in and out, and Caleb watches as more people come in and meander towards the back behind them. They aren’t the only ones who came here just to sit back and enjoy, apparently. “What kind of music is it?”

“Veering more towards acoustic, I guess? It’s becoming harder to describe genres since people will just call anything indie these days,” Molly says. “Slow, relaxing, much more ambient music. Low maintenance listening.”

“And you like that stuff?”

“I do. I mostly like rock and weird, strange things that capture your ear, but these kinds of things aren’t bad too. Believe it or not, but I don’t just parade around on stage all the time.”

Caleb chuckles and takes another sip of his drink. “I’d be lying if I said I was not surprised.”

“I’m playing piano for my sister’s wedding, I must have  _ some _ ear for anything besides rock.”

They seem to arrive at the perfect time, because it only takes minutes for the lights of the room that aren’t pointed at the stage begin to dim. Without as much event as the Mighty Nein, four members come out to stand on the stage and pick up their instruments. They have a small intro where they introduce themselves as also being locals from Zadash, and then they ease into their first song.

Like Molly said, it is slow, gentle, and actually quite good. With a piano, guitar, cello, and percussion, their sound is rather simple and unobstructed. A small gnome woman and a dragonborn man are the lead singers who switch off, their harmonies much more soothing than Jester and Molly’s had been. It doesn’t take much to see that they are lovers from the sweet love songs they perform together. But it isn’t just love songs; lyrics about depression, of hard times gone worse, of regaining faith and all sorts of inspiring messages.

Caleb finds himself leaning over the table as he wills himself to relax. He sips his drink leisurely and finds himself able to close his eyes and focus on the sound. It isn’t enough to get drunk on one glass alone, but the warmth it brings to his chest helps unwind what anxiety has been hiding around the corner.

He’s surprised to find that Mollymauk doesn’t speak much during the concert, Whenever he glances at the tiefling, he finds Molly’s eyes glued to the stage as the small band continues leading the audience ny their heartstrings. Caleb can see Molly’s leg bounce along to the slow rhythm out of the corner of his eye, and his finger might also be tapping against the table. But if he doesn’t engage, then Caleb is more than happy to take what he can of this improvised evening and enjoy the music.

It is very different from Mollymauk’s band. Their members do not dress up very much for show, and though they exchange smiles, they do not speak much or move around the stage to interact. It’s far more professional for how deeply personal and heartfelt the lyrics to their songs are, and Caleb thinks he enjoys both styles of playing, as different as this group is from the other concert he’s been to recently. They have different charms and qualities to them, and neither of them are particularly bad. Slowly, he feels his foot begin to sway below the stool along with the music. In the back of his head, he closes his eyes and pictures the pianists’ fingers over the keys as they play and how they might move.

At the end, it doesn’t feel like it’s been very long, and Mollymauk applauds politely when they give their bows and leave the stage. Then he looks to Caleb and turns his stool to face him. “What did you think? Worth coming out?”

Caleb tries to drink the rest of his glass before speaking only to find the remnants of melted ice on his tongue. He sets the empty cup back down on the counter. “They were very good, I thought. Did you like it?”

Molly nods and stands, offering Caleb a hand that he doesn’t take as they begin to trail out of the room. “I did, they were very relaxing, weren’t they? It takes a good musician to create a headspace for their listeners where they can just wander in that sound.”

For some reason, Molly’s words make Caleb pause. That wasn’t what he had been thinking at all, but it makes sense in a way he didn’t know he needed to put into words. “Ja… ja, that’s a really good way of putting it,” he says. “It really captures you in a nonaggressive way, like an invitation to just fall back and let their music take care of the rest.”

“It’s hard to think about anything unpleasant and not be comforted with music like that,” Mollymauk adds, and Caleb smiles, because he understands. The concert acts almost like medicine, and he feels his chest lighten. He walks a little taller, unafraid to follow directly next to Mollymauk as they exit the building. It’s only music that could coerce and console him into some semblance of reasonable self-confidence--or just the lack of anxiety.

“Thank you for taking me, Molly. I actually really enjoy music like that, it’s all over my phone.”

“I think they’re on Spotify,” Mollymauk hums, and Caleb perks up. He pulls out his phone and begins to scroll through the music app and, sure enough, they’re there. He doesn’t think twice about downloading the few songs he remembers.

When he looks back up, Mollymauk is grinning at him. Caleb thinks it’s only the alcohol that keeps him from feeling embarrassed at his own eagerness. But instead of teasing him, Caleb hears the words Molly once said a few weeks ago the last time he made this same face.

_ You really love music. _

The words don’t come from Molly’s mouth now, but Caleb can hear it in the same look in his eyes, so he turns back to look where they’re going. “Would you like to stop somewhere else on the way back?” Mollymauk asks.

Caleb glances down at his phone. It’s only nine o’clock, but it’s also already nine o’clock. By now he would be preparing for his three hour read in bed before sleep. He can’t deny how nice it is to get out and listen to music and, surprisingly, spend time with Molly. The phone returns to his pocket. “What do you have in mind?”

Mollymauk shrugs with a smile as they reach the car, both taking their designated seats. “Loitering, mostly.”

In most cases, Caleb would immediately reject him. They won’t be doing anything, and Mollymauk is essentially inviting him out to just… spend time together doing nothing. All they would have is themselves to make conversation with, and they still have hardly known each other very long at all.

Maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it’s the concert that leaves Caleb feeling more sentimental than usual. He nods and waves his hand flippantly, then Molly pulls out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments so far!! sorry that I haven't gone through and replied to everything, I will be soon. <3 much thanks


	6. Heart of Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heart of stone - mini mansions

“I’ve thought about having some slower songs for the Mighty Nein,” Mollymauk says once they’re on the road. The city has returned to life with the sun having set, lit up brightly as if it were a holiday and not just any other night. Mollymauk has Caleb connect his phone to the car to play through some of the earlier band’s songs that they didn’t see tonight. The quiet, soft melodies are turned down so they can hear each other and makes for quite the calming backdrop.

“Would the band be fine with that?” Caleb asks.

“I think we all want it, it’s just a matter of getting all of our feelings in the right place to make something we all feel invested in playing. The first one is the hardest, you know?”

Caleb nods even though Molly keeps his eyes on the road and cannot see. “Ja, I get what you mean. I’m sure whatever you all come up with would certainly be interesting.”

Mollymauk smiles, giving him only a glance. “Have you ever composed music before, Caleb?”

He should’ve expected they would end up talking about his experience with music. Caleb turns his head to look out the window, facing away from Mollymauk when he finally decides to talk. “A long time ago, yes. But it has been years.”

Mollymauk nods in acknowledgement, not saying anything else on the topic. Caleb is grateful he seems able to read the atmosphere as well as he can create it and know when to not pry. “We’re headed to one of my favorite spots, it’s not that far from here, actually. It’s where I got the inspiration to write our first--and favorite--song.”

“Which one was that?”

“The first one we played at the concert,  _ ‘Serendipity _ .’ Jester and I worked on it together, and the rest is history. I like going there every now and then when I’m in different moods to see if anything new comes.”

“Does it actually work?” Caleb asks.

“Enough to write the start for most of our songs there,” Mollymauk says with a bark of laughter.

It takes about twenty minutes of driving for Caleb to recognize where they’re going. Once they leave the city lights behind them, the roads become older, dirtier, and less traveled as they head farther out from the urban heights. It isn’t somewhere he’s been often, but he remembers his parents taking him when the weather got warmer. The freshwater lake in Zadash is actually quite large, enough that the coast of it appears no different from the beach at the ocean. Most recently, he came with Nott and the others to try and convince the goblin to swim with them. The mere memory makes him smile.

“Are we allowed to be here after dark?” Caleb asks when they find parking near one of the public parks, and Mollymauk dismisses the question with a wave of his hand. 

“No one’s come to stop me before.”

Mollymauk leads him down a specific path to reach the lake, not quite mysterious in the dark as worn down trails and signs mark the path many have walked before them. The sun set sometime during the concert, leaving them only by the moonlight as the street lights from the parking lot fade out behind them.

They don’t have to walk very long before the dirt beneath their feet turns to concrete, then sand. For all the work that Caleb assumes went into his fanciful appearance, he watches as Mollymauk slides of his boots without a thought and sets them on the last clean space of pavement. His purple feet disappear beneath the sand, and he watches for Caleb to follow. Caleb foregoes removing his shoes and follows after him with just a slightly harder time.

“This is the perfect time to come here, really. Part of me wishes I’d brought a notebook,” Mollymauk says as he travels down the slope of the beach with careful steps. He stops near a log that was likely placed deliberately for seating, far enough from the water to risk getting wet. Even so, he removes his dark trench coat and lays it horizontally across the wood, enough to nearly cover the entire thing. Caleb blanches at the thought of sitting on top of Molly’s expensive vetements, but one pat on the spot beside Molly is all it takes to convince him to sit down with a good foot or two of space between them.

“It is gorgeous,” Caleb agrees, getting comfortable as he takes in the sight. In the night, he can just make out the silhouettes of large buildings of another city across the water. The lights are blurred from this far away, and Caleb imagines that anyone standing on that side of the lake would have the same view of Zadash.

The sound of the water, the best of its waves from boats more than anything, wash out the commotion of the crowds from earlier this evening from Caleb’s head. It helps to wrap everything up succinctly in his mind, containing the concert and their conversations in one bright little package. Beside him, Mollymauk watches the water with a content expression. His tail moves in slow motions on the sand behind him.

After a few minutes of silence, Caleb finally speaks up. “Why did you want to take me out here? The concert, too.”

Mollymauk’s shoulders bounce in a noncommittal shrug. “I want to hear your thoughts about music, because I think you’ve got some great things to say. I was hoping if I took you to a cool show and then the place that helps me think the most, it might have a similar effect. Pretty basic line of thought, huh?”

Just that? Mollymauk had merely taken him out to try and convince Caleb to talk, or rather, had hoped this would encourage him to spill his thoughts naturally. It’s a gentler approach than Caleb would’ve attributed to Mollymauk, but it is still… not what he wanted to hear, although he isn’t sure what would’ve been a good answer.

Molly speaks again. “...no, actually, that’s only partly the truth. It’s selfish, but… I’m in the middle of a bad spot of writer’s block.”

“You can’t write music?” Caleb asks.

“Something like that. Nothing has come naturally in quite some time. Fjord and Jester have been leading the effort and coming up with stuff, thankfully, but I miss the entire process. I’ve written songs outside of the band as well, and now I cannot even do that. The skill eludes me, suddenly, as if I’ve just lost all of my words and ability.”

Caleb bites the inside of his cheek and tries to keep looking his direction. “And so…?”

Mollymauk shrugs. “Fjord has mentioned you all. He said you were a musical genius, and I thought if I could learn something from you, or gain some new insight, that it would… fix it. And I realize it’s completely naive of me, to expect it to just ‘poof’ away. It hasn’t, either. It’s not like it was particularly malicious, and there’s never been any ill will, but as we hang out more I feel guiltier about it.” He offers Caleb a small, apologetic smile, one Caleb hasn’t seen before. “I’m sorry.”

It isn’t anything that he should apologize for. Caleb knows that. He would undoubtedly do the same thing if he were in a position where he wanted to return to music; he’s no stranger to using others for his own personal gain in whatever small way it may be. It’s the first time Mollymauk has come out with any issue of his like this. For some ignorant reason, Caleb had just assumed he was perfect in whatever way he was aiming to be. He had the stage, his friends, talent and ambition that Caleb lacked. It isn’t disappointing as much as it’s almost  _ reassuring  _ to find out that Mollymauk has his own selfish fuck ups, too, regardless how small.

Caleb lets silence take over for him, the sound of lake’s water lapping at the sand filling the gaps. He doesn’t even talk with Nott about music in depth, not in the way he feels Mollymauk wants to speak. He wants to talk about its creation, the thoughts behind it, chord progressions, soul, and all the heart that goes into a piece, the very essence of music itself. Had he approached Caleb just years earlier, a younger version of himself would have been more than happy to talk his ear off and write an essay on any which topic.

He is not like that now, though. Time and certain events have worn him down, not eroded his edges as much as he has been completely flattened by the world. He hardly thinks he has even the correct mind for music anymore, with how little he’s thought of it, much less talked with anyone. Any skill will diminish over time without practice.

Mollymauk turns to him suddenly, smiling as if he had not essentially been rejected by Caleb’s lack of a response. “Would you care to share secrets?”

“Pardon?”

“Secrets,” Molly repeats. “Nothing you don’t want to share, of course, but something interesting or fun about you that nobody knows. Or you could share something deep and personal.”

Caleb turns his tongue over anxiously in his mouth. “What kind do you usually share?”

“Oh, I have plenty of both. But whichever you want to hear you’re gonna have to give back.”

Caleb keeps a lot of secrets. Nott is the one who knows the most about him, and even then, she doesn’t know a lot about him. He definitely hasn’t told her much about this weird thing with Mollymauk or the crises he’s had ever since they met. It doesn’t feel… good to not share with his friends, and he knows he would feel better if he did, but it’s so difficult. To keep to himself is so much easier, so much simpler and safer. He can hate himself, but if any of his friends did? That’d be the end of it.

He considers what they all already know, Beau and Fjord included, and turns back to Mollymauk. “Tell me a deep secret of yours, first.”

The tiefling’s grin widens mischievously and he crooks a finger for Caleb to lean in closer, so he does. Their heads are almost touching like this, and he looks instead at the sand on the beach as those red eyes stare into his face.

“I didn’t meet Jester until two years ago.”

Caleb blinks. He pauses, goes over his words, and pulls away to stare at Molly in confusion. “What?”

Molly laughs and leans his chin in the palm of his hand. “Our mothers are different, actually. We did not meet until her mother found her estranged lover with my mother. Both women dumped the bastard, and here we are now.”

By the way the two of them act, Caleb would’ve never guessed that they hadn’t been together since birth. They certainly act as if they’ve known each other all their lives. “I thought you were twins,” he says honestly.

“Technically, we  _ were _ born on the same day with the same father--so we like to say we’re twins,’ Mollymauk says and Caleb laughs. How very like them.

“What about your mother, then? You live in Jester’s home do you not?” He isn’t sure how far they’re allowed to go when asking about these secrets, or if he’s guaranteeing Molly will ask him questions about his own. But Caleb can’t deny how curious he is with this strange new piece of information.

Molly pulls a sour face for just a second. “We don’t get along. I came to live with Jester and her mother because they were more like the people I wanted to be. They didn’t think twice about letting me live with them after Jester and I met. The two of them accepted me so easily, they were better people. A better family, you know?”

He does, so Caleb nods. Although he reveals everything rather flippantly, Caleb can imagine none of it was particularly easy for Molly to go through. To think, even this bright, always so merry tiefling would have his own dark story behind him. At least it seems to have paid off nicely, if his current happiness is anything to go by. Perhaps once, he wasn’t always so jolly. Perhaps he was like Caleb is now.

“What about you?” Mollymauk asks, and Caleb pauses to consider. He already promised a secret by asking for one.

There are things he has told all three of his friends. Given, it took a long time to work up to them, but they are not secrets that he is particularly worried about getting out, as much as he doesn’t think that Molly would betray his trust like that.

Mollymauk told him something pretty personal, though. At this point, it would be rude to brush it off and come out with something that doesn’t match up. He thinks of Nott again, how proud she’s been not only that he’s been making new friends, but how much more he’s been opening up with his emotions. It’s one thing to show happiness and let loose to have a good time more often; being sad and opening up to negative things is also a part of that. He shouldn’t cherry pick which emotions he allows himself to indulge in when he knows there has to be a balance.

“It is… not quite as dramatic,” Caleb begins, and Molly gestures for him to continue anyways. “But I have an uncle who is… not a very good man. He is a large man in the entertainment industry, and he always said that he could make my career flourish. I’ve known for a while that he has been grooming me for my talents, all kinds of manipulation to keep me under his thumb and… very bad things.”

Molly doesn’t smile as he speaks, his face contemplative and serious as he watches Caleb speak. He’s grateful for that.

“He is the reason I do not play music anymore, and why it is so hard for me to talk about it. It… it has been ruined for me, quite honestly.”

“Yet you still enjoy it,” Mollymauk adds, and Caleb nods with a sigh.

He crosses his arms, tucking his gloved fingers into his sides. “Of course I do, I was… I was raised with music, it is how my family functioned. To completely hate it would take a lot, and… a lot has already been done.”

Even though his eyes are filled with the sight of water stretching out miles before them, small licks of flame eat at the edges of his vision. He blinks them away and hangs his head.

“I want to talk about music, truly, but it is so…  _ hard _ .”

Mollymauk nods along, allowing him a few moments to think before he asks anything. “Is this uncle of yours… still relevant?”

“Unfortunately.”

His relevance haunts Caleb every day, all the missed calls and voicemails on both the landline and his personal phone. The letters, the texts, and the constant reminders of what is to come. Although they have not spoken in very long, Caleb feels him every time he looks ahead at the calendar; there is a deadline for how irrelevant he is. Soon, he’ll be back in Caleb’s life, and from there… he is not sure what will happen.

But those are things that he cannot say yet. Although Fjord and the others know about that deadline, it is hard to say to somebody who he has only just revealed the truth of his uncle to. Caleb clenches his hands into fists just for the sake of feeling the rough leather scratch comfortingly against his skin.

He can tell them all about his uncle and the sort of man he is. He can talk about his job, how he treats Caleb, and even the plans his uncle has laid out for him in the future that he expects Caleb to carry out. But there’s no way he can tell them--even Nott--that it is his own fault for ending up in this position. In truth, Caleb knows that he could say no, that he could reject the man and his proposals and live by himself, free from any familial ties; but he is so tired, and so very, very pathetic. It is his own fault for being here, it is his own fault for  _ everything _ that’s happened. This is the punishment that he deserves.

A part of him so desperately wants to come out with it all at once, to scream and yell his frustrations with himself and his uncle and the world he has ruined for himself. It would be so nice for someone to gather him up in their arms and comfort him like the mother he no longer has might do, to soothe him and tell him that everything will be okay. He doesn’t know if Mollymauk is even the type of person that would offer the form of comfort he feels he needs, but he cannot ask for it, regardless; he doesn’t deserve comfort for pains he has brought upon himself.

This is his own battle to fight, and his own wrongs to right.

“Thank you for sharing that, Caleb,” Mollymauk says, and Caleb notices a different tone in his voice he hasn’t heard before. He’s much quieter, gentler than he’s heard the man speak before, and surprisingly it doesn’t come off as… condescending. It’s sincere. “And I’m sorry for trying to coerce you into talking about your opinions on music so often.”

“No, I’ve enjoyed it, truly,” Caleb says. “Even though it is hard for me to put it into words, I still… I still enjoy it. I’ve had a great time going to these concerts and seeing people perform. It’s been nice getting to know you, too.” The last part makes Mollymauk smile, and he finally leans back in his seat on the log to give Caleb his space.

“I’m relieved to hear that I’m not the only one who thinks we are friends. So it’s alright to keep doing this?”

“This being…?”

Mollymauk waves his hand around in the air. “Hang out outside of piano lessons, you know? Even if we aren’t talking about deep music shit, it’s still fun to hang out with you.”

Caleb returns the smile, feels the expression on his own face beginning to warm the ball of ice in his stomach. “Ja, I would like that. And thank you for tonight, too. It is nice to get out and just… talk with somebody.”

“I wasn’t able to hear your expert revelations on musical composition, but I guess getting to talk and learn more about you will suffice,” Mollymauk says jokingly. He slowly comes to stand and offers Caleb a hand that the human takes to help upright. “I’m always willing to lend an ear or lip when you need, Caleb. Let’s start heading back now, shall we?”

Caleb agrees, fighting down his natural urge to point out the innuendo, but follows after Mollymauk off the beach. He helps him remember his coat on the log and watches as he puts his boots back on, Caleb standing aside and kicking sand away from his own shoes unsuccessfully until it’s time to head out. 

He doesn’t quite understand why he feels so comfortable around Mollymauk so suddenly. On any other day, he would never act like this, following somebody’s silly whims and opening up to them like this after less than two years of friendship. Caleb is not the kind of person to interact with others often, and he does not interact with them easily. But somehow, recently, talking with the tiefling feels almost… natural. Like it could be easy, so much that he almost feels open to conversation with other strangers besides him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind at all times, the image of a stage with five figures silhouetted by multicolor lights is imprinted into his skull. It has been a long time since he indulged in music with somebody besides his friends, or at least music that he finds himself taking seriously. Caleb remembers Mollymauk’s words and his own thoughts that he’s held firm for years; music is how they communicate. From simple words to entire feelings, ideas, and even an entire person at their core, music is the single most effective method of expressing everything.

On that day at the concert, something changed within Caleb as he watched a man he’d just met perform, and Mollymauk accidentally worked his way into Caleb’s head. It might not make sense to others the same way it does to him, but it hardly matters given he would never try and explain himself, much less tell anyone about how much they interact. 

For all that they’ve talked, nothing has been quite as direct and meaningful as that concert. Others who were there would say they enjoyed it, but would they truly understand what it means on a personal level? Did they see Mollymauk as Caleb did? Did they truly  _ see _ him, what he presented to everyone so bare and unabashed for everyone to take as they please?

Perhaps Caleb is reading too far into things to think that Mollymauk may have intended for all of this to happen. Although he was the first to bring up music as a form of communication, he should have no reason to give Caleb an open invitation to his heart on full display. It feels as if Caleb understands him much better now, making up for the years they haven’t had together. In a short, hour and a half concert, Mollymauk was able to communicate more of himself to Caleb than he has received from some of his friends in years.

It puts them at uneven ground, though. That is probably why Mollymauk has been so adamant in trying to talk with Caleb, to understand him; a musician who refuses to play cannot truly connect with others to his fully capacity, after all. Caleb thinks about it the entire ride back to his home, his phone still playing the music from the sweet band they’d seen just over an hour ago.

When they reach his home, Caleb climbs out and waits for Mollymauk to unroll his window as he stands on the sidewalk. “Thank you for the ride,” he says, and Mollymauk makes a ‘psh’ noise back at him.

“You must stop thanking me for common decency. Are you doing anything tomorrow, by the way?”

Caleb shakes his head. “Do you know of other concerts in town?”

Mollymauk grins. “No, but I know a really good coffee shop, and I’m great at making plans on the spot.”

“Do you ever make plans ahead of time?”

“I prefer to see where the day takes me. Just trust me.”

Today, Caleb had fun. The day of the concert, too, he had fun. Caleb smiles; what does a little more hurt? “Trust you with what, exactly?”

Mollymauk leans his arm on the rolled down window and props his chin up in his hand. “To make things not boring.”

Caleb laughs and begins finally walking to his house, moving backwards to keep eye contact for just a few seconds. “I think that’s the  _ only _ thing I could trust you with.”

The answer makes Mollymauk laugh and he offers Caleb a small wave. “I’ll text you tomorrow, then.”

“Right, I’ll text you--” Caleb stops at the door as he remembers something, quickly hopping back down the porch steps and running up to Mollymauk’s car. The tiefling stares at him curiously, leaning further out the window to meet him as Caleb reaches the car. “Caliana’s phone number!” he says triumphantly. “Nott wanted it!”

To think he had nearly forgotten the singular request his best friend had made of him. It had been one of the first things on his mind when she dropped him off, and he had gotten so distracted tonight that it just slipped from between his ears. He looks up at Mollymauk expectantly only to find the guitarist staring down at him with some unreadable expression before a smile breaks the mood.

“What, that’s all?” he asks, already retrieving his phone to share the contact with Caleb. They part for good after that and Caleb watches his taillights disappear down the street before going inside to tell Nott about his night and give her what she’d asked for. She’ll be delighted to hear about how much he’s gotten out, though he’ll probably spare the details about everything he told Mollymauk. Even though she knows all about his past and even more, it still doesn’t feel… right to tell anyone that Caleb let Molly in. It had taken longer for him to open up to everyone else, after all.

Tonight was fun, and with their serious talks included, it was almost cathartic. In his quest to talk about music, Mollymauk has been getting a better look at Caleb than most get. He isn’t sure if this is the best way to have gone about things, or the most efficient, but being able to connect with somebody new like this for the first time in so long feels  _ good _ , surprisingly. And in turn, he’s gotten to understand Molly himself a lot more, too. Perhaps it’s an unconventional friendship, but it’s  _ fun _ . The only thing Caleb can’t seem to grasp is why Molly had seemed just slightly disappointed when Caleb asked for Cali’s phone number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with every talks machina i become more and more convinced that molly would've eventually come onto caleb and it breaks my heart but it could also just be me deluding myself. maybe caduceus will get the honor.


	7. Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tenderness - parquet courts

Caleb lingers at his closet a little longer than usual this morning. His attire typically is just what doesn’t smell offensive and can be worn with jeans, usually covered up by a large coat or cardigan anyways. It’s easiest that way, and he doesn’t see much point in trying to act like he’s fashionable when he isn’t. Just putting more consideration into what he’s wearing doesn’t suddenly make better clothes appear in his closet, though, and he’s still left with the same boring options he has everyday. He just picks out a sweater he usually doesn’t wear and slacks that he never bothers with most days. Although it may be the opposite of a fashion choice, he decides not to put in his contacts today and spends time deciding which way to wear his hair is least dorky with his glasses.

It’s just the minimum amount of consideration he could put into his appearance. He doesn’t try on multiple outfits and choose between them, he doesn’t get anyone’s second opinion, and he doesn’t use any kind of product for his hair or face. It’s just one step above normal--which has always been nothing. Caleb slides on his gloves as normal and feels slightly guilty this time; they don’t really match the rest of his outfit. But it isn’t like he can just take them off.

When he goes out to the living room, he can already smell Nott making breakfast. “G’morning, Caleb!” she greets cheerfully from her stool at the stove. “Would you like any eggs? I can throw some more in for you if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but I’m going out for breakfast today,” he says, though he comes forward to kiss the top of her head anyways. “I’ll be back later.”

“Going out? With who and where?”

“With Mollymauk, to some coffee shop.”

Her eyes widen, and he turns around before that sly grin can rise to her face. “Oh, I see. No wonder you’re dressed up, you’ve got a d--”

“Day out and about with a new friend so we can discuss the wedding,” he lies. “If there was anything like that going on, I assure you you would be the first to know.”

Nott snorts. “Yeah, maybe even before you.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!” she chirps. Nott hops down from her stool and straightens out the sweater bunched up around his waist for him with deft hands. “You go out and have fun, I might not be here when you get back.”

“What will you be doing?” It isn’t common that Nott has plans of her own that he hasn’t heard about from Fjord or Beau. He knows it’s stupid to ask, though, since he saw her texting happily away on her phone all night after he gave her Cali’s phone number.

At just the right moment, both their phones buzz on the counter. She grins. “Cali, Jester, and I are going to a  _ rave _ !”

“Oh,  _ god _ .”

She laughs and swats Caleb’s hands away when he reaches out to ruffle her hair, pushing his legs towards the front door. “That was Molly texting you, yeah? Get going already!”

He chuckles along and raises his hands defensively as he’s escorted to the door and handed his phone. Only when they’re at the door is he allowed a chance to look at it.

**[9:17 Mollymauk] Ready when you are!**

“Text me how everything goes later,” he says while he opens the front door. “Be safe and do not do anything  _ too _ dangerous or stupid.”

“No promises, have fun!”

It’s Nott who slams the door shut behind him, and Caleb cannot help but roll his eyes. It’s been a long time since either of them have had this much activity and freshness in their lives. He’s glad it isn’t just him going through something strange and new recently, as it would be much harder to get by. Just the fact that Nott is also making new friends and becoming more outgoing is reassuring. Even if it lessens their time together, the quality of that time has increased exponentially. They’re both brighter, both  _ happier _ .

Molly’s familiarly colorful car is waiting just outside his house, and Caleb waves as he rounds the other side to hop in. “Good morning, Molly.”

The tiefling watches him for just a few seconds before his ever-present smile widens. “Good morning yourself. Since when do you wear glasses?”

Out of habit, he self-consciously grabs the rim and lowers them just slightly on his face. “Ah, yeah. Beau usually makes fun of me if I’m wearing them, so I’ve gotten into the routine of just wearing contacts.”

“I like it,” Molly says. “You look like a dedicated bookworm trapped in an eternal autumn wardrobe cocoon.”

Caleb scoffs. “You sound just like her, thank you.” He glances over Molly’s outfit to try and find something to throw back at him. He’s dressed more casually than the night before, some kind of band tee hidden under a red jacket with dark brown pants. He isn’t wearing as much jewelry as usual, but a good dozen bracelets cover both his wrists. The only thing Caleb can think to say is, “You look nice as well. Why’re we getting coffee, by the way?”

The car pulls away, and Caleb is relieved to find them not heading directly into the city for once. Caleb thinks he can only go downtown so many times a week, and that limit is once. Being surrounded by so many busy people and tall buildings can get a bit claustrophobic in the same way that makes him hate most of the buildings on campus. “Thought it would be good to spice things up with no music for a change,” Molly says with a casual shrug. “We’ve never really met outside of it, have we?”

Caleb shakes his head and says, “We haven’t.”

It’s completely because of what Caleb revealed to him the night before. He isn’t sure if he should feel uncomfortable that what he said actually caused Molly to change the way they do things, or if he should feel relieved that the man is taking his feelings into consideration. It’s kind of him, very much so, but in a way that Caleb doesn’t feel he particularly deserves. It’s not as if there is anything he can do to repay Mollymauk’s consideration, and there certainly isn’t anything he can do differently to respect the secret Molly had told him yesterday.

So instead, he sits back and enjoys the car ride, trying not to worry about every little implication. The weather is lovely today with few clouds, and those that do hang in the sky are bright and swept up like sugar floss. From the inside, it’d be easy to think the temperature is much higher than it is outside. Days like this, their group message should be blowing up with Beau and Fjord trying to convince Nott and him to get outside and be active. Perhaps Caleb and Nott aren’t the only ones with plans today. Usually the thought of his friends being active and doing other stuff would make him feel lonely, given he didn’t get out otherwise until a few weeks ago. But now, Caleb doesn’t even take them into consideration when making his own plans.

It feels good to have some independence from the group of friends he’s relied on for the minimum social interaction he inevitably desires. He loves them, undoubtedly more than almost anything, but it isn’t fun believing he’s the only one who is so dependent on them, regardless of if it’s true or not.

Sitting in Mollymauk’s car, getting outside without having to bother his friends, doing things for himself on his own volition… it feels nice, as if he’s only just now aware of his own personal agency. The music on the radio is something fun and light between the host’s chatter, and Mollymauk only talks to point out places along the way he knows and make small comments about the service.

The place they finally park in front of is part of a strip of stores. Caleb expects it to be some kind of hippie paradise with incense and all kinds of strange things leaking out of every orifice, but when they walk inside, he finds that place is actually quite… normal. It’s cozier than most places he’s gotten coffee on campus, much more personal, but there are just as many common folk hanging about. 

Caleb makes a point of standing in front of Molly in line at the counter even though the tiefling claims he doesn’t want to wait for Caleb when he already knows his order. Fighting back a smile, Caleb doesn’t budge in place and ignores him as he reads through the menu hanging in the back; he’s not going to be paid for three times in a row. Only once he’s ready does he order and takes pride in swiping his own debit card, even if the cost for coffee hardly compares to everything else Molly has gotten him.

He waits for Molly to get his drink to show them to an empty part of the room by the windows. The glass is tinted blue with sheer curtains that prevent the sun from risking anybody blindness by sitting in the open, and the color of the glass comes cascading down over the sofa Molly leads them to. In the back of his mind, Caleb recalls the dancing colors of the performing arts building’s stain glass window as he sits down, and he tries to brush it off. They did come here specifically not to talk about music.

Mollymauk takes a long sip of his drink and lets out a satisfied sigh. Caleb would do the same if his wasn’t scalding hot and instead wonders how Molly doesn’t burn his tongue off. Tieflings, he guesses. “So,” Caleb starts in the meantime, “I take it you have some interesting story about why you come here and how it hones your craft?”

Molly shakes his head. “Looked it up on google maps outside while waiting outside your house.”

Caleb can’t help but laugh, having gotten his expectations up. Of course the only way Molly could surprise him at this point would be to have nothing. “Are you serious? I was preparing for the monologue the entire ride here.”

“We’re here to make our  _ own _ stories, Caleb, this is the start of one right here!” Molly explains and lifts his drink for Caleb to tap with his own. “The time I went and got coffee with the Caleb Widogast where we teamed up and formulated all sorts of devious schemes. It all starts here.”

Caleb knocks the rim of his coffee cup against Molly’s good naturedly. “No schemes for me, I’ll just reminisce on this place when you’ve made it as a famous rockstar.”

Molly lets out a single loud laugh. “Maybe we’ll still be in touch by then, who knows!” He settles himself more comfortably on the sofa with an arm around the back and turned to face Caleb fully while Caleb leans back against the armrest on the other side. “I’m all out of stories this week, why not give me one of yours?”

“Presuming I have stories that are half as interesting as yours,” Caleb says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, we know you don’t play music right now, so what do you do when you get home from class?”

It takes a moment to think. He really doesn’t  _ do _ much, and the only times he leaves the house are when Nott is hungry or Beau and Fjord come up with something to do. “Read, mostly. Nott and I have gone through almost everything on Netflix together out of routine, so we actually have to watch television as shit airs, now.”

At least it makes Molly chuckle. “So you’re super pop-culturally aware.”

“Unfortunately yes. Being able to understand every reference under the sun is more of a curse than it is a blessing, believe me.”

“You’ve got me beat out, I don’t watch anything. Or read, really.”

“I doubt I have more taste in pop culture than you of all people.”

“I’m a people person, not a sit at home and binge five seasons of whatever show is trending every night person,” Molly says. Caleb isn’t sure why he assumed Molly would be more hip when it came to just about everything popular or ‘in’ than him. He seems like the kind of guy to just know everything before it’s come out and be the first to follow trends--no, he seems like the kind of guy to  _ start _ trends. Maybe that’s why he isn’t as ‘in’ on everything if he spends all his time being so stupidly original.

Caleb takes a moment to finally drink his coffee once it’s cooled moderately and is pleasantly surprised to find that it’s actually quite nice. If he could, he would get up and add more sweetener to it, but it would be rude to leave their conversation now. “What do you do when you aren’t playing or writing music, then?” he asks.

Mollymauk takes a big gulp and leans his cheek against his fist with a thoughtful hum. “Jester and I fuck around with our bandmates a lot. I work at the shop, trying to learn more about repairs so I can take some work off my boss, Gustav’s, back. When Yasha and I hang out we’ll play google maps roulette with places we’ve never been and check them out, which is how I find most of my weird places. I really do spend  _ most _ of my time with music, honestly. Or at least I’m always thinking about it.”

“Even now?”

Molly nods with another drink. “My head is going a million miles a minute and you had no idea.”

“I had a feeling.” Somehow, there’s a rhythmic quality to everything Mollymauk does. More than just his leg that is constantly bouncing in tune with something, it’s as if every movement he makes is a performance. The sweep of a hand or the turn of his head, even his sentences sound like they could be lyrics no matter what he’s saying. It’s subtle, so much that anybody else would just think of him as poised and well spoken, but Caleb isn’t that different from Mollymauk. It is easy to spot a man whose head is filled with music when Caleb is searching for it at all times.

Molly meets his eye with a devious grin. “What do you think I’m thinking, then?”

That’s a much harder question. Caleb takes his time to think and looks around the coffee shop as he focuses on his drink. To just say that he’s composing some music in his head would be a cop out, and may not even be true. There’s more to music than just listening and creating. The music playing on the radio is very faint, turned down so the baristas can communicate with each other and all the other patrons can have their own conversations. It’s some kind of pop song from ten years ago, back from when Caleb paid attention to new artists.

He looks to their surroundings. It takes a good amount of effort to focus on anything outside of the window, both discolored and slightly warped. There’s construction taking place on the building next to them, but no one is on site right now. Across the street, cars pull in and out of a busy gas station. The only noise coming from outside is the whirring of vehicles as they pass by.

A bell chimes as the door is open, and two men walk in. They don’t adjust the volume of their conversation from outside to inside as they enter, speaking far too loud for a small place like this.

That’s when Caleb turns to Molly and receives a knowing smile.

“You’re eavesdropping,” he says, and Molly’s grin just widens in somewhat surprised amusement.

“Impressive,” Molly says and scoots closer on the couch. He lowers his voice. “Listen to the women behind me at the small table.”

Caleb can hone in on the two of them instantly, although they speak at a much more reasonable volume than the new customers. Their conversation isn’t particularly riveting, discussing some issue a third friend of theirs is having and how they can help. Touching, really, but he doesn’t pay attention to their words. He hears it as soon as Mollymauk points it out.

“The woman in blue’s cadence,” Caleb finally answers.

Mollymauk throws his head back with a laugh and scoots back to his side of the sofa. “You’re a madman; no one’s ever been able to pinpoint me like that.”

Because I think the same way, Caleb wants to explain, but he doesn’t. He might not have honed in on it as definitely if Molly weren’t here, but these are the kinds of things he picks up in conversations with anybody. It’s easy to tell if someone plays music just from their mannerisms, sometimes. Even if that woman doesn’t have anything to do with the arts, her speech is naturally rhythmic and pleasing to the ear. Like lyrics. Like Molly.

Caleb shrugs instead of giving a decent response. It has been a long time since he searched for music in everyday things like this, and it revives the memory of days spent trying to find inspiration. He would always find it, of course, in love with the world and all its brilliance that he had yet to discover. He could find music anywhere, because to him, it  _ was _ everywhere and everything, and that’s why he pursued it. Not only was music the way he communicated with others, but it’s how the world communicated back to him. It had been comforting, never feeling alone when everything was constantly singing.

Now, it’s less of a relief and more of a ghost. He isn’t as uncomfortable as he may have been a while ago, given he’s been seeped back into music more recently than ever. But in the back of his head, Caleb can close his eyes and pretend he’s a teenager again, and that the musician inside of him is alive and well and excited by every small thing in this coffee shop.

When he looks up from the rim of his cup, unaware he had even been stuck in a daze, Mollymauk is staring at him differently. It’s difficult to knock the smile off his face, but it is less vibrant now, his eyes drooping. “That whole not talking about music thing didn’t last long, did it?” he says apologetically. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine, it… comes to me naturally as well,” Caleb says. “Even I can’t avoid it sometimes.”

“I suppose we can’t really avoid it at all since we have lessons after this, anyways.”

Caleb naturally pulls a small face at the word. They’re becoming more bearable, but sitting by Mollymauk’s side and just watching the man play piano while Caleb can only guide him is frustrating as much as it is debilitating in its own sense. Surprisingly, it’s their conversations that have gotten Caleb through the lessons so far. Who knew they would’ve actually made good friends.

Mollymauk must catch the look on his face because he chuckles and stands from the couch, downing the rest of his cup in one go before looking back to Caleb. “Want to make another stop before practice?”

“You can never just go out to one place, can you?” Caleb asks, though he stands all the same. Molly offers him a dazzling smile in lieu of an answer and throws the door open wide to march out. Caleb doesn’t bother finishing his coffee immediately and takes it with him as he follows the tiefling outside. 

Now that he’s trained his ear inside the coffee shop, it feels like a burst of life as soon as they step out. It’s the same feeling as popping one’s ears and suddenly being able to hear everything much clearer, and all the sounds he had looked at from the outside ring vividly in his ears. It’s pleasant, in a way. It brings the day to life and goes well with the weather. 

“Are we going to play google maps roulette now?”

“Not twice in a row, there has to be some order,” Mollymauk says once they’re in the car. “I actually know this area of town and had been meaning to come here eventually. But I’ve already given you one surprise, so I’ll let you make your own choice now.”

Isn’t that curious. Caleb didn’t think he would ever get time to prepare for any event with Molly involved and resigned himself to getting used to the last minute plans and surprise outings. “Alright, what’s around?”

“Music, or no music?” he asks, as if he’s presenting two coherent options. It wouldn’t mean anything if he provided two actual locations, though, because this is really what it comes down to.

Caleb sits back in his seat and takes a long sip of his drink. They had said today wouldn’t be about music, but didn’t Mollymauk just say that for Caleb’s sake? Usually the topic makes him uncomfortable, but Mollymauk is somehow much better company to confront it with than anyone else despite him oozing performance and arts from every pore. The man is a walking piece of music, and he’s somehow become one of the only people Caleb doesn’t feel sick to his stomach talking about music with. That doesn’t mean it’s particularly easy or that he wants to all the time, but it is progress.

“No point in avoiding it if we’re going to practice right after anyways, right?”

Mollymauk nods and begins to drive. He turns the radio up a little louder this time.

The drive isn’t very long and is much quieter conversation wise. In reality, Caleb’s head has begun buzzing with the sound of everything in and outside of the car until he’s focusing on everything but the music to make sense of the outside world. He can see the sound of traffic signs for pedestrians, of people talking on their phones, of bicycle bells and tires and high heels against pavement. It’s a lot of noise for one man after having ear plugs for so long, so he tears his eyes away from the window and goes through Molly’s car instead.

For all the elegance he holds in his posture, it really isn’t that clean or tidy. The passenger seat is clear of any trash or dirt, but he can see where things are hiding at his feet. The backseat seems to receive the most damage with all sorts of crumpled bags and opened boxes thrown back haphazardly and without a care. Cheesy beads and ugly mascots dangle from his rear view mirror while colorful stickers decorate his dashboard. It’s the first time Caleb’s taken the time to actually look at everything inside without passing it off as ‘weird hipster bullshit’ before turning away.

In his study of the environment, he makes the mistake of looking in Molly’s direction and finds himself trapped by his fingers tapping away at the steering wheel. It isn’t the beat of the song that’s playing, and instantly, Caleb knows that Molly is in his own world doing the same thing as him. The difference is that he isn’t afraid to embrace it.

“Did you ever use any kind of music player besides your phone?” Mollymauk eventually asks just as they turn into an outlet.

“All kinds. I still have my father’s old record player and the CD player from when I was young.” It doesn’t take long for Caleb to understand why he’s asking the question. Once Molly parks, Caleb finally lifts his eyes from the inside of the car to look out and find them stopped in front of a record store. It appears to be pretty classic, and none of the patrons inside appear any younger than thirty. “Is there a story behind this one?” Caleb asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hears Molly chuckle.

“I like the vibe.”

It’s not much different from many other record stores Caleb has been to in his lifetime. Famous covers line the walls, the authentic ones in dark frames with large price tags in the corner. Racks and boxes line the walls and cover the rest of the floor in rows. On the other side of the wall separating the shop from its other half, posters and stereo equipment are stacked up high.

Mollymauk makes a beeline for the vinyl section with Caleb following after him. He always used his record player more often than CDs, although it has been a long time since he touched either of them. His fingertips skim the edges of the vinyl cases stacked horizontally in their boxes as he reads what little of the names are visible on the thin sides. He recognizes just about every name.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Caleb asks, though he doesn’t look up from the rack he’s examining. Many bands his parents followed religiously have come out with new albums. He had heard about them all secondhand, but never worked up enough courage to go out and listen to them.

“Not really,” Molly answers, “I come often enough to just look for anything new. Half the fun is the collecting, you know?”

Caleb nods. His father’s office is covered with all the records he was most proud of, some even autographed. Caleb can vividly remember how exciting it was whenever his father pulled out one of his most prized albums, not knowing what it meant at the time, but knowing it was rare. No matter who it was, Caleb found the music that poured from the speakers that much more meaningful just for how exclusive it was.

His finger catches on a Pumat-4 record, and he hesitates. It had been one of their favorite bands together, his family foregoing an actual vacation to instead purchase VIP tickets to one of their last concerts.

“We don’t have to stay for very long, I just wanted to check it out while I was in the area,” Mollymauk says. He’s sorting through another box with dexterous fingers, rarely stopping on anything for more than a second. Caleb has to wonder how many of the records he flips through are ones that he already has or just doesn’t want.

Caleb leaves his post at one rack to join Molly at the boxes he’s sifting through and begins looking from the other end. These appear to be more modern releases than the older classics he had been looking through. He recognizes less names here, though the bands he does remember he tucks into a file in the back of his mind to look into later. It takes a minute before his finger finally stops on one, and Caleb immediately pulls the sleeve from its box.

Molly notices him from the corner of his eye and comes to stand behind him. “You’re a Shorthalt fan?”

Caleb turns the record over in his hands to read through the tracklist on the back. “A while ago, yes. I didn’t know he had released a new album.”

“Everyone was surprised he came back after being out of commission for eight years, and with his  _ daughter _ on the new album of all people” Molly says. “I think they just finished up their first tour with it.”

He had been one of Caleb’s favorite artists when he was much younger. He hadn’t gotten to see him in person, but he loved him more than most other bands. It had been heartbreaking when he announced a hiatus. Everyone just assumed he was done for when they never released another word. To think he had finally come back when they all thought it was over… and with his daughter as a part of a new band?

Even he could give up and still return to music after so long.

Caleb grips the edges a little tighter as he admires the cover art. It’s all kinds of colorful that the he never employed before, a new look separate from his old identity in smooth, romantic music. “They’ve changed?”

Molly nods. “Lead singer was in an interview recently talking about how he had been trying to come back for years, but nothing came out right with his daughter in the band now. They had to change their entire outlook to live up to their old stuff, and it is different, but honestly? I like it.”

Their old fame… he’d been a wildly popular solo artist when Caleb wasn’t even yet in high school. His songs were always on the radio, gorgeous as much as they were rowdy and a little bit naughty. This new look is different, it’s wild and bright and prioritizes fun over romance. If there were no name on the label, Caleb would’ve never thought it was them.

He holds it close to his chest. “I think I’ll get this one, actually.”

Molly doesn’t end up buying anything for himself and even allows Caleb to purchase the record on his own. None of this is what Caleb expected when Molly offered to get coffee, but… he’s happy that they came here. Listening to one of his favorite bands after this long is like coming home to an old friend and catching up. It’ll be nice to hear what they have to say after so long.

“Are we ready to go to practice, now?” Caleb asks once they’re in the car, and Mollymauk snaps his fingers.

“Shit, I forgot something--mind if we stop by the shop real quick? Just to pick something up.”

Caleb slowly quirks one brow. “Another detour?”

“This one’s legitimate, I promise I’m not wasting your time,” Molly says, and Caleb gestures for him to continue. He doesn’t honestly care what they do before or after lessons. Maybe if they were staying out the entire day, but Molly mentioned they have band practice tonight anyways so there will be a stopping point eventually.

Molly uses his aux cord for the drive to his store, playing the new album of some other band they both found in common. He talks the entire time about all of the band members and what they’ve said during interviews about each piece. It’s all fascinating, especially with Caleb’s distance from his previously beloved bands after all this time.

The store isn’t very far, thankfully, and the time is made to feel even shorter with the conversation. Mollymauk parks in a restricted space and calls Caleb to come in after him, saying they won’t be longer than a minute.

Like the record store, it’s about as standard as music shops get. Guitars of all strings and make hang from the walls with different corners of the store dedicated to different classes of instruments. One wall houses a few varieties of violins and violas, brass coming in right next to it. All the other racks are filled with different cases and accessories necessary to play or take care of their respective instruments.

Posters and records hang on the wall, more sparse than the record shop, but with more pride. Caleb watches as Mollymauk greets his coworker at the counter while hopping right over it. She says something to him and he laughs, giving her a small kiss on the top of her head that seems to delight her before he disappears into the back. He returns just moments later with a guitar case slung over his back.

“Your guitar?” Caleb asks once he’s come round the counter again.

“Bass,” Molly corrects. “I’ll show you when we get back to my place, I just had to get a string changed.”

As they leave, the woman at the counter yells some comment about him working tomorrow, and he responds with a ‘yes, sure’ and blowing a kiss her way. It’s obviously no sort of romantic relationship, but it’s easy to tell they must be pretty close.

“That’s Mona, she and her sister work the counter with me. She’s a real sweetheart,” Mollymauk explains as they climb back into the car for what feels like the dozenth time today.

“She seemed quite pleasant,” Caleb agrees. “Where to now? The museum, mini golf, lunch?”

It’s a joke, but he sees Mollymauk pause and drum his fingers on the wheel. “... _ are _ you hungry?”

“No, please,” Caleb laughs, sinking into his seat. “Let’s not do anything else until we’ve finally had this lesson you’ve been putting off since yesterday.”

Mollymauk laughs along. “Right, right, as you wish, sir. Really forcing my hand here.”


	8. Autumn Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> autumn love - death cab for cutie
> 
> i've finally fallen below having prewritten buffer chapters because of work and nanowrimo so please god help me maintain two fics at once

Not much time has passed since Caleb left the house this morning, and the sun remains high in the sky. He’s gotten used to meeting with Molly in the evenings and only one other time during the day when they went shopping for his suit. It’s a nice change of pace to see the sun and Molly in the same shot. Sunlight suits him, like the grandest of spotlights for a man who acts as if every day is its own performance.

The two of them are very different, and Caleb still can’t comprehend why the tiefling makes such a constant effort to hang out so often and remain on Caleb’s good side. He’s far more considerate than Caleb would expect of anyone in subtle ways, never trapping him, but always offering a hand to help him get out of his shell. It’s a miracle he took the first hand offered and hasn’t pushed any away yet. It’s a miracle, and it’s good. It feels  _ good _ to feel good and to be happy as easily as it comes to him now.

It’s nice to make new friends, and Caleb thinks he would like to keep Molly around and get to know him better. It’s no mystery that he finds the man fascinating in all his eccentricities, as strange and almost frightening as he is. The strangest part about him is just how much Caleb enjoys their time together, as hard as it is for him to comprehend Mollymauk’s motives. Even if he apologized for having the ulterior motive of talking about music, there isn’t much he could really gain from Caleb even if he did. That’s just conversation, and the fact that Molly’s ulterior motives were  _ friendship _ is… weird. 

But Caleb isn’t going to outwardly question that which has helped him out of his funk recently. Molly’s house is a welcome sight, and Caleb is happy to jump out of the car for the last time today. It’s just a matter of time until Mollymauk is offering to drive him home from practice every day, and he’s already begun preparing excuses and reasons to keep walking. He already bothers the man enough as it is.

Mollymauk adjusts the guitar case over his back as they walk inside and throws his keys onto a table by the front door. “I just need to put this back--here, come with me, this is actually a good idea.”

“To your room…?” Caleb asks cautiously, and Mollymauk practically cackles in amusement.

“Your mind goes some funny places pretty fast, huh? Follow me.”

Down the usual hall, Mollymauk walks right past the door that leads to the piano room and walks to the very end. There’s only one door there with a small window set into the wood. It’s warped in intricate designs so that a clear image is only available in the very center, but Mollymauk is pulling the door open before Caleb can even try to look through.

For a second, Caleb thinks they’ve walked into another music shop. There are less cabinets filling the floors but instruments cover the walls as if they were just wallpaper. There’s a variety of guitars, brighter than those in the store, and on the ground sit all kinds of percussion, stereos, synthesizers, keyboards, cellos, and just about everything a musician could hope for. There’s a raised platform in the back that acts as a small stage lined with amplifiers, and only now does Caleb notice all the dark soundproof padding covering the walls.

“This is where we have practice,” Mollymauk says as he guides Caleb over to the left of the stage. “Some of these are from other family members or Jester’s mother’s collection, but nobody besides us uses the place anymore.”

He kneels and pops the case he had been keeping over his back open and gently lifts the decorated bass guitar to show Caleb. It’s a shimmery teal with dark red lines swirling around the edges, and it has a surprising amount of wear on it.

“Is it Fjord’s?” Caleb asks as Molly sets it into a stand between two other guitars.

“No, like I said, I can play bass, too. Just not as good as Fjord,” Mollymauk shrugs. “Plus he can’t play any other instruments, so we’re making the most of what we have, but don’t tell him that.”

Caleb chuckles and agrees to silence. Of all of them, Fjord is the only one who’s pursued music as a hobby more than anything. It has little to do with his major at university, and yet he seems to be the most successful out of any of them with this band. “Can you play everything here, then?”

Mollymauk laughs. “God, no. I’d like to, and I can play a lot, but not everything.” His hand is still on the neck of the guitar and he pulls it right back up into his hold with a small yank. He flippantly throws the strap over his neck, and Mollymauk plays a few chords that Caleb surprisingly recognizes. They’re a little faster than it’s supposed to be for the sake of showing off, but he can vividly remember watching Fjord play the same thing when they first stepped on stage that night.

“ _ ‘Serendipity _ ,’ right?” Caleb asks, and Molly clamps his hand over the strings to stop the sound.

“Impressed you remember, you’ve got a good memory. Yeah,  _ Serendipity _ , it’s the first song we all wrote together.”

It was the first song they played that night, too, and the one Caleb can remember most vividly. He would say it’s only due to the fact it was the first impression he had, but thinking back on everything they played, it’s probably also his favorite. That isn’t all there is to it, though. Caleb thinks hard for a minute, letting the silence take over in the room as Mollymauk returns the guitar to its stand.

He knows the song from somewhere else. He’d only heard it once before, but that isn’t it. It isn’t that he heard it somewhere besides the concert, it’s… “That’s Jester’s bridal march, isn’t it?” Caleb finally says with a triumphant snap of his fingers. “That piece, it was, uh, uh, a slow arrangement for the piano, right?”

If Molly seemed impressed before, his brows raise even higher now, his smile falling for just a second in shock. “We haven’t even gotten to practicing that song, I only showed you the sheets for a minute. I mean, you’re right, but…”

Caleb shrugs almost sheepishly. “Like you said, good memory.”

“I’m beginning to think that was an understatement,” Molly laughs. “Do you know how to play anything besides piano, Caleb?”

“I used to keep up with a few instruments, actually.” His parents had started him off on piano and violin, then as time went on and he honed in on his love for music, Caleb tried taking up even more instruments. There was a time in his life when he could confidently play almost six different instruments. As time went on, though, and certain events fogged up his sight, they gradually fell off. “The only thing I can play for sure now is guitar, I think. Even that’s doubtful.”

“Acoustic?” Molly asks, and Caleb nods. He looks around for a moment, finding that Molly’s personal acoustic he had used once during practice just a few steps away. There’s another much more plain guitar next to it that Caleb approaches and stares down at in consideration.

He hasn’t touched the guitar outside of classes since high school. When he stopped playing, it was different from piano. Sometimes just hearing keys is enough to make him feel uneasy, his fingers twitching almost painfully. It isn’t the same with guitar; not playing was just a part of giving up music. He preferred to do whatever assessments he could with the guitar, honestly, as long as it would keep him away from the piano that all his professors insisted he use.

Caleb looks to Mollymauk, about to ask something when the tiefling bows his head and gives Caleb a ‘go ahead’ motion with his hands.

Although it never feels quite comfortable, Caleb has gotten used to playing guitar with gloves. He’ll take them off during class when he has to, but for moments like this… no, he’d rather not touch Mollymauk’s instruments with his bare hands. He cautiously picks up the guitar beside Molly’s and gives its strings a testing strum. 

Slowly, much more than Mollymauk, Caleb repeats the chorus of the same song. It takes him longer to think of the composition, not quite as comfortable with the guitar as Mollymauk is, but he still manages. He can just feel the taut strings slide against the edges of the leather on his fingers, and part of him misses the slight sting of skin on wire. He plays simply and honestly without trying to put any embellishment on the original place, just repeating what he can remember very well.

Once he’s finished with the small segment, he immediately sets the guitar back in its place. Mollymauk speaks before Caleb can try and flounder his way into conversation. “I didn’t know you were proficient in multiple instruments,” he says. “You’re more talented than you let on, aren’t you?”

Caleb smiles self consciously with an awkward laugh. “Guitar is the best that I can do, everything else I once knew has been lost to time.”

One question from Molly is enough to decide the rest of their night, genuine and unassuming as the question is.

“What else did you know?”

Somehow, a light turns on in Caleb’s head, and they somehow meet in the middle of the same thought.

For the next half hour or so, they go back and forth comparing their experience with different instruments, when they started, and what knowledge they have now. Caleb’s surprised to discover that most of Mollymauk’s experience is very recent, meaning the information is all quite fresh in his mind for as little as it is. He’s best on guitar, obviously, but he shows off a bit on drums and other percussion as well. Mollymauk speaks the entire time at lengths detailing his ambitions with learning all he can to make himself as much of an asset to the band as possible. He knows the basics of cello, just started trying violin, and was taught the smallest bit of saxophone. Caleb can’t help but laugh when, of all things to be proficient in, Mollymauk gleefully details the story of how Jester’s mother had taught him accordion when he took to music with her. The same chorus of  _ Serendipity _ sounds much different on every instrument, its tone and mood different, and Caleb thinks he’s beginning to love the song more with each play.

He isn’t just a spectator, though. They trade off between instruments and Caleb attempts to show off what little he can remember of everything he had lessons in when younger. Mollymauk laughs when he tries to play the drums horribly but is much more impressed when Caleb proves himself far more proficient with the violin--or as much as he can be with leather gloves hindering his dexterity. It’s a little easier to play the flute, though he decides not to show off any other brass for sanitary reasons.

They talk the entire time. Although it’s been years since he’s thought about any of the instruments he once took lessons in, Caleb finds himself actually trying to remember them now. The skill trickles back in with a mixture of ‘oh right, I forgot that I enjoyed this,’ until he’s smiling the entire time. He laughs at Molly’s jokes, and he laughs at himself and his own silly mistakes when they inevitably come up. Towards the end of the half hour, Mollymauk tries to convince Caleb to give the electric guitar a try after plugging it into the amplifier. He repeats the exact same motions as he did on stage, playing the song naturally. Caleb takes the instrument begrudgingly and finds most of his attention diverted to the guitar pick that Molly hands him to use instead. It’s the same plain white one he had shown him after the concert, and the memory of his words returns to the forefront of Caleb’s mind.

It’s natural for Mollymauk to be here and flow freely between so many instruments and styles of playing. Although he is by no means wonderful at everything, and some things Caleb is convinced he can only play the chorus to  _ Serendipity  _ specifically on, he puts loving effort into each. They’re not just skills he’s picked up for the sake of having someone in the band who can play them; with each new instrument comes a new sound, one that adds a new perspective to the same song they play over and over. Each instrument is a new angle, a new way of expressing different parts of himself. It earns a new level of respect from Caleb for not only his abilities, but his ambition. 

At the same time, it presses against a bruise Caleb didn’t know he was hiding for so long. With each instrument, Caleb recalls the specific lessons and memories he has with each. Even those he eventually gave up on are fond memories because at the time, he had been so excited to learn something new. He was still young and bright with a love of music and performance that could never be extinguished until it was. Now it feels as if Caleb is returning to old friends after having abandoned them for years, and the guilt weighs heavy in his chest.

But nothing makes him feel as awful as when they reach the keyboard.

Even though he had been anticipating their practice tonight, approaching the keyboard produces a pit in his stomach. Mollymauk must read the air better than he thinks, because he steps between Caleb and the keys first and turns it on himself while launching into another story. “I wasn’t lying when I said Jester’s mother taught us piano,” he says. “It’s just that she taught me much later than she taught Jester. I only have two years of experience, and even then I’ve spent most of my time focusing on guitar instead.”

“You prefer the guitar, I cannot blame you,” Caleb says. He stands behind Mollymauk as he sits down on the much sleeker bench that accompanies the keyboard. The sound the keys produce once his fingers land on them is much more pronounced and far louder than the piano in the sitting room.

“Now, this might be a little harder…”

For all the practice they’ve been doing, it seems to only translate into the one piece they’ve been working on specifically. Mollymauk’s fingers are slow and almost clumsy over the keys. He tries to play too quickly, not having a grasp on what role either hand should be playing. Playing for no matter how long doesn’t make performing by ear any easier if they’ve only practiced by following directions the entire time.

Mollymauk doesn’t show frustration very much, but his lips pout and he exhales a small huff at one point. He tries to laugh at himself more than anything. It’s their own song, after all. Even the keytar that Jester plays is merely an accompanying melody, not a piano rendition that could just be imitated.

“Just focus on playing the lead,” Caleb says gently, and Molly sighs dramatically.

“It would sound like a child trying to play their favorite nursery rhyme with just one hand. I’m not very good at the… everything else part of piano,” Mollymauk explains with a chuckle that’s quickly cut short once Caleb moves.

For the first time, Caleb takes a seat next to him on the bench.

It’s much smaller than the one in the sitting room, leaving them pressed close together just to share what little cushion there is. “Just play,” he says again, much quieter. He hears Mollymauk open his mouth to say something but closes it. Without another word, Mollymauk carefully places his hands on the right side of the piano and begins again.

He doesn’t play as ambitiously this time, using only one hand to play the leading tune to the same song they’ve repeated a dozen times tonight. Caleb listens, his eyes closed as Molly plays the basic sound, and allows himself to sit in his memories. For as simple as it is, the melody alone is enough to transport him back to that night at the concert, to seeing Molly on stage for the first time, burning brightly against his otherwise dull everyday. The lights had flared, the crowd jumped and cheered, and everyone on stage radiated with an energy that Caleb hadn’t ever seen before.

Gradually, he recalls how quickly his heart had been beating that night, how it thundered against his ribcage until it does the same now. He forces his pulse to quicken, to restore the adrenaline of that moment, and Caleb leaps onto the stage.

Mollymauk falters as soon as Caleb’s fingers fall on the keys. Caleb doesn’t look anywhere but the ivory teeth beneath his hands and waits for Mollymauk to catch up right as they reach the first chorus of the song. With two other hands playing on the other side of the keyboard, the sound reaches new heights, full and complex as Caleb barrels through the memory. It would be inaccurate to say he is merely playing by ear or the sole memory of the concert--no, he’s thought about it ever since. In the back of his mind, he had composed arrangements for every song that night, carefully weaving all the other instruments and their respective tones into the piano keys.

Now, he is merely living out what his mind had produced without his permission. It comes naturally and without thought, all the emotions stored in him since that night flowing freely through his hands and onto the keys. It’s exciting in a way that he can hardly register, the adrenaline pumping so vividly that Caleb is only able to think in terms of the immediate feelings passing through his head. It’s instinct, raw and untempered.

The concert had burned itself into his mind, and since then, Caleb couldn’t stop thinking in the back of his head about what it would be like if this, how it would sound if that, and all the possibilities that new and interesting music posed to him. The piano he plays now is just the fulfillment of those wishes, to hear the same song from that dazzling night from his own hands. To take part of that experience. To make it his own.

It isn’t until the end of the song does Caleb realize that Mollymauk’s hands aren’t moving.

They haven’t been for some time, and Caleb had unthinkingly picked up in his place to complete the sound. He had been playing the song by himself without noticing. At once, Caleb’s fingers jump off the keys and hover above them, his head snapping to the side to look at Molly in shock. The same surprise is reflected on the guitarist’s face, tinged with something like awe as he stares back at Caleb with wide eyes and parted lips.

It’s the first time Caleb has played piano in front of him, and it wasn’t even the classical pieces he’s used to. No, he played some homebrew rendition of a  _ rock _ song, something he’s never even tried before. It was unpolished and unprofessional by all means, Caleb’s fingers clumsy from their hiatus.

Yet Mollymauk looks at him as if he had invented the instrument itself.

His lips gradually begin to stretch up into a bright, bewildered smile. “ _ Caleb _ \--”

Mollymauk’s voice breaks the trance, and at once, Caleb is restored to normal as the clock strikes twelve. His fingertips burn within the confines of his gloves and travel up his arms. His eyes widen, impossibly afraid as all the anxiety that usually lies dormant within his stomach suddenly erupts catastrophically. Mollymauk’s delighted smile disappears from his vision, replaced instead with the lick of flames and sirens as their car turns the corner of the street. In the passenger seat, a hand claps down on Caleb’s shoulder, jolting him back into the present where only a second has passed.

Caleb nearly trips as he darts up and off of the bench.

He’s made a very large mistake.

Molly’s smile falls, concern filling his features instead as all the color in Caleb’s face is drained into the floor. Slowly, carefully, Mollymauk stands as well.

“Are--”

“I have to go.”

He doesn’t wait to see how Molly responds, and it’s only coincidence that Molly’s face drops quick enough for Caleb to notice it as he turns away. He feels horrible, but the bile rising in his stomach is stronger, and he doesn’t waste another moment before full on bolting out of the door and down the hall. All the decor, the fanciful artwork and loud colors that line the wall only serve to dizzy him on his way out. Caleb’s shoulder slams into the wall right before he reaches the foyer, and though it hurts, he brushes it off and darts for the door.

The only relief he earns is the cold winter air that meets his skin as soon as he is outside, and he drinks it in desperately. Cruel how it’s still daytime and the sun continues to shine down as if nothing has changed between the time they pulled into the driveway and now as Caleb sprints down the yard and out the gate. He can’t relax, not until he can no longer see the rooftops of Mollymauk’s home peering over the other buildings and trees of the neighborhood. He doesn’t even take the usual bus that he would use to get home. He has to run from this on his own.

Stamina and endurance don’t suit him very well, though. Caleb only makes it a few more minutes of running before his legs give in and pull him into a moderate stumble down the sidewalk. In a gasping, furious fit, he tears his gloves off and shoves them haphazardly into his pockets. The cold air across his fingers is the finest therapy he can ask for right now, and he lets them remain in the open air even when the wind whips them uncomfortably. He holds his palms towards the direction the wind is blowing from so they might comfort the bright red splotches that cover the insides of his scarred hands. The sweat on his face only serves to cool him even more.

The only saving grace he has is that Nott isn’t home by the time he opens the front door. Caleb moves only on instinct and sheds his coat and shirt on the way to his room, kicking his boots off as he goes. He just barely remembers to remove his glasses and set them on the sink as he enters the bathroom, knowing they would fall off as soon as he ducks down in front of the toilet.

Usually the anxiety he feels is only similar to that of physical illness. Now, all the coffee he had drank so sweet and slowly this morning is expelled immediately. It leaves Caleb with chills on his own bathroom floor, and he instantly wishes he hadn’t just shed all his warm wear as soon as he entered. At the same time, he’s still burning, his palms feeling as if they’ll melt any moment.

It takes a while before he can pull himself up from the cool tile of the floor and into the kitchen to retrieve the ice packs he keeps ready in the freezer. He wraps them up in two separate cloths that are kept pinned to the fridge and holds them tightly in his hands. Only once he’s cleaned his face briefly and has secured the ice packs does Caleb allow his mind to shut down. As soon as he does, all his muscles follow, and he just barely has the mind to press his back against the fridge before sliding down to the floor.

He brings his knees up to his chest and rests his forehead on top of them, trying to remember his breathing exercises.

It isn’t the fact he played piano that’s done this to him. He’s had to for classes, still uses the instrument for assessments when he has to.

It isn’t the fact that somebody was watching him. He plays accompaniment to Nott’s violin whenever she needs practice.

Both of those are enough to make him uncomfortable, and on bad days, he might have similar episodes. But he knows those aren’t this, and he can’t brush today off as just another breakdown by causes he knows enough about to try and avoid. Something new, something he’s never felt before has dug its fangs into him and refuses to let up. It’s strange, and it’s frightening, and he doesn’t even know what coping mechanisms he would use to begin tackling this stranger that has taken his emotions hostage.

It’s nothing he can identify, not like this when he can hardly form a coherent thought. Something awakened the moment his fingers touched those keys, familiar, but different enough to terrify him. Nothing has changed in Caleb’s life in years, and he’s been fine living like this, as mundane as it is. But something new begins to clamor inside of his chest, pounding against his ribcage, tearing him apart from the inside out. He thinks it might be his heart and absentmindedly wonders how it could beat so loudly, and where it’s been hiding all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all again for all the nice comments even if i don't get around to replying <3 this fic is really self indulgent so it's super great to get any feedback at all lmao as more and more shit leads back to molly in canon i have greater need for him...


	9. Dark Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dark days - local natives
> 
> so im just gonna get rid of that chapter count and not pretend like i can predict how long this is gonna be lol

**[9:03 Mollymauk] Caleb, are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed the music thing too much.** **  
** **[9:05 Mollymauk] We can reschedule the lesson for any other day this week whenever you want?**

He didn’t open those until the next morning. Caleb looks at his phone from where he lays on his side in bed, squinting at the pixels of each character as if willing them to disappear entirely. This shouldn’t be happening--this shouldn’t have happened. But at the same time, he supposes it was only a matter of time until disaster struck again. Once he was able to put himself in bed last night, he hasn’t moved since, burying himself beneath the warmth of blankets and the ticking of his watch on the nightstand. Even its rhythm which should be calming just makes his stomach curl back and forth.

A knock on the door disturbs the silence in his room, and Nott cracks open the door to peek in. “Are you coming to class today, Caleb? I’m taking off soon,” she says, only stepping halfway into the room. He tries not to look at her for fear of the guilt that will take reign of his actions if he sees her disappointment. He shakes his head vaguely from his bed.

“Not today, Nott. Go on ahead.”

“Do you want me to stay back with you?”

“...no, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”

They both know it’s a lie, but Nott doesn’t push it and steps out of the doorway and back into the hall. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way back if you want dinner,” she says before closing the door. From the other side, he hears her call, “Text me if you need anything at all today.” And he doesn’t respond.

For all his horrible attitude and the selfish way he treats the people in his life, his friends continue to be too kind to him. Caleb could easily explain what happened just yesterday and confide in her, knowing Nott would be more than happy to talk everything out if it’s what he wanted. He instead uses the excuse that she should focus on going to class to justify pushing her away, and he brings the blankets up over his head.

Nothing has changed since the night before, but the feelings linger. After episodes like that, Caleb can be out of commission for days, unable to shake the ghosts that gnaw at his ankles once he’s aware of them. They pick and pry at his skin with power over him that no phantom should possess, but he cannot simply kick them away for fear of what he might be left with afterwards. This terror and fear, this guilt and anguish are all he knows. There’s no telling what he might become if he were to try and let them go. The answer might be ‘a good person,’ but there’s no risk worth taking in that.

Caleb isn’t an idiot.

He knows what yesterday was.

It was never about lessons, and it wasn’t about music. Mollymauk asked him out for coffee, and he agreed, and the tiefling did everything he could to extend their time together. They went out. They talked, they laughed, and the worst part of it all is that Caleb had the most fun he’s had in a long time. It’s different from hanging out with his other friends, and yesterday, he would’ve jumped in after Mollymauk wherever he dragged him next. Even now, after everything, the memory of the day is soaked in kind white, the colors vivid in his mind. He had fun. He had fun with Mollymauk. He wants to see him again.

But thinking he could actually leave his shell was naive. The two of them are so radically different, polar opposites of each other. There’s no way he should have any place beside Mollymauk in any context, and there should be no reason that the rock star _wants_ to see Caleb, either. It isn’t as simple as making a friend from mere piano lessons. Kind, reassuring stories like that don’t suit him after everything he’s done.

His phone buzzes in his hand, surprising him out of his head for a second. The dimmed screen brightens as a new message appears on the screen.

**[8:17 Mollymauk] I don’t know what went wrong yesterday, but I’d like the opportunity to fix it. I had a lot of fun.**

It just makes him feel worse.

He wants to say yes, me too, I’ve never had more fun and felt freer than when we’re together. We’ve only known each other for how long, but let’s hang out, let’s have fun and play music. I’m a horrible person but I feel like less of one when we’re together, please let me keep feeling that.

It isn’t fair to Molly, though. That darkness creeps over Caleb’s body, washing away what little happiness he had at reading the text. Caleb’s just using Molly to feel better about himself, riding off that high that someone _good_ and genuine and kind can pull from him. He hasn’t provided anything to their interactions, and he can’t understand why for the life of him Mollymauk would go out of his way to seek Caleb out. He can’t talk about or play music. He can barely hold a conversation without it being awkward. He can’t really… do anything.

Mollymauk doesn’t deserve to be subjected to someone who’s just going to drain his good nature. Caleb turns his phone off and sets it aside to let sleep take over.

He doesn’t do anything for the rest of the day. Caleb goes to classes the next day, and he meets with his friends again the day after, but he avoids his phone as much as he can. There’s hardly any reason to, given Mollymauk hasn’t texted him since then. Caleb waits on the edge of his seat for an entire week before deciding that Mollymauk won’t be texting him again. He isn’t sure whether or not that’s a good thing as it stands.

Classes are classes, his friends are his friends, and Caleb tries not to think as much as possible.

His fingers burn even hotter when he has to touch the piano for class, but a simple text from Nott is all it takes to keep him from keeling over a toilet in the restroom. She meets him halfway to drive back early, neither mentioning the afternoon classes they’re both skipping for the sake of going home (or rather, getting Caleb home). She chats amiably in the car about the classes she did attend and the boy she’s been talking to there who also plays violin. He doesn’t respond, more than happy to just lose himself in his friends’ words for the entire car ride.

Fjord hasn’t mentioned anything, but Caleb thinks that he has to know that he’s bailed by now. He would apologize if he weren’t too afraid to bring it up. When they meet for breakfast, the half-orc doesn’t say anything about Mollymauk or the band, as if time had rewound to before that concert. Beau continues to prattle on about Yasha occasionally to Caleb in private for advice he’s unable to give, but those conversations are much funner and weigh less on his mind. It’s only when he remembers that Yasha and Molly are best friends does that pit sink back down in his stomach.

It’s been an entire week, more than enough time not responding to a text that the message should’ve gotten across. Which, in this case, is… perplexing, because Caleb doesn’t even know what message he wanted to send. But just by not replying he’s already made a statement that he wasn’t prepared to give. This sort of thing happens more often than it should, too afraid of making a choice that it ends up being made for him.

“Caleb?” He snaps his head back up to look at Nott who stares back at him. He’s just about to tell her to look at the road when he realizes they’re parked at home. “You’ve been out of it for the last few minutes, is everything alright…?”

He huffs out a small laugh and hops out of the car. “Of course not, that’s why I am here and not in class right now.”

“I know you’re bothered by that, but is something _else_ wrong?” she asks, following after him to the door.

Leave it to his best friend to be able to tell even his tragedies apart from each other. He heaves a deep sigh, meeting her eye for only a moment before it lands on the instrument on her back. The violin case had showed up at their door yesterday afternoon with no note or guest attached. Nott had nearly broken it again in excitement when she’d picked it up and ran about the house to show Caleb. As happy as he is to finally hear his friend playing again with a bright smile on her face, the sight of the instrument comes with the bittersweet knowledge that Mollymauk had still come through on his end of the deal.

It’s remarkably well done, although the difference in wood isn’t quite seamless from the body to the bridge. He supposes that’s the most he should expect for how quickly the repair had been done, having needed to build an entirely new piece that would be fitted to it. To think that Mollymauk went through with such a drastic repair (that was by no means cheap) and dropped it off at their home without even stopping to speak… the mere image of how that scene might’ve played strikes a somber chord in Caleb’s chest.

They make their way to the couch as usual once their bags and outerwear have been put away. Only when Nott distracts herself with picking a channel to watch can Caleb speak up. “What do you do when you’ve really fucked things up with a person,” Caleb begins, choosing his words carefully to preserve his dignity, “but you do not want to stop being friends?”

Nott hums thoughtfully, taking his words into serious account. He can’t recall the last time the two of them got into a serious fight, or when Nott fought with a friend in general. “Well, you and Beau always seem to make things work out after everything, yeah? Can’t you just do what you two do?”

Caleb grimaces. Their relationship is very specific to their equal levels of social inexperience with other people. They argue often, and they’ve gotten into some pretty gnarly fights over the years. But each time, they don’t make a big event out of apologizing and making up. It’s always a quiet and natural event when they’ve both spent enough time away and thinking about the other’s perspective until they’re brought back together.

“This… isn’t a fight,” he says. “And we aren’t in a position where we are forced to see each other multiple times a week like me and Beau. I just… fucked it up, and I think I made them upset, probably.”

“You could wait until they reach out?”

The words hurt on their way out. “They… already texted me a few times, but I fucked that up, too. Now it’s too late to respond, you know?” He drags his hands over his face, unable to feel his nails through the leather of his gloves. “But I still want to talk to him, and I want to go back to the ways things were, but I’m the one who fucked it up in the first place?”

Nott leans forward in her seat to try and watch his face as Caleb curls in on himself. “You know, Caleb, you don’t have to keep seeing Molly if you don’t want to. Maybe this is your chance to get out.”

He doesn’t even think about the fact that she already figured out who he had been talking about. She probably knew from the start, detective she is. “I… I don’t dislike Molly. And I don’t hate the time we spend together. I feel bad about ruining things, especially since this is the first new friend I’ve had in a very long time, and he’s been very kind to me.”

He’s seen Caleb in a way that no professors or students ever tried to understand. He approached Caleb in the context of music, something Caleb had been avoiding at every turn, and he made it… not quite so scary.

“We were at his house,” Caleb explains, “comparing our knowledge on different instruments. And he sat down at the piano and tried playing a song, just like practice, but this time I… I sat down on the bench.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes with a deep breath. “And I played with him--then, even when he stopped, I kept playing piano.”

“Caleb…”

“And the worst part is that it--” A catch in the back of his throat stops him, voice breaking towards the end. Caleb has to take a moment to keep himself from rambling everything right here and now to his small friend, though he knows she wouldn’t mind listening to it all. “I bolted, immediately. I ran all the way home and puked and had to get my ice and… you know how it is. He texted me a few times, and I never responded to them because what would I say?”

Nott answers the rhetorical question. “Apologize for leaving, but explain that you just can’t play piano like that, even if you’re teaching him he should respect those boundaries--”

“But that’s the thing, Nott,” he interrupts her. “I had _fun_. Even now, when I think about it, my heart starts beating quickly and my mouth starts trying to smile and it… hurts.”

It isn’t the answer she was expecting if Nott’s silence is anything to go on. A small hand lands softly on his back, beginning to rub slow circles between him shoulder blades comfortingly.

“I had fun, and… it feels horrible. I shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy the piano when it’s my talent that caused--”

“Caleb, you know that it isn’t--”

“--but it’s the only way that makes sense in my head--”

“You weren’t even _there_.”

For the first time since they started talking, Caleb feels the prickle of tears at the back of his eyes that he fights back with all his might. “It doesn’t matter. We could argue about this for hours.” And they have, multiple times in the past. None of those discussions ever ended up landing somewhere relevant. “I can’t justify how I felt when we played together, how much _fun_ I was having to be playing piano… and I made that decision so simply and easily that I didn’t even acknowledge what I’d done until it was too late.”

“Playing piano isn’t a _crime_ , Caleb,” Nott stresses as she grabs onto his hands. “It sounds like you had a really good time, then you scared yourself off, and you still want to see him?”

Caleb pauses.

He nods.

Though he can’t see it, he can hear the faint smile in Nott’s voice. “Just call him. He seemed nice, I’m sure you two can keep hanging out and teaching piano. He _does_ still need to prepare for his sister’s wedding.”

Finally, Caleb meets her eye, and the easy smile on her face makes him smile too. “Jester should just ask you to play violin instead, it’d solve everything.”

Nott instantly sits up straighter, a bright glow rising to her face with the praise. Caleb can’t help but chuckle as he watches his friend wrestle with the desire to beam excitedly and pretend to be modest. “Yes, well, that would be a very strategic decision on her part, but… whatever, you need to call Molly and apologize, that’s all!”

No tears fell, but Caleb wipes at his eyes all the same. It’s been a long time since he was soothed off the edge of his radical emotions, and it’s only Nott who’s able to do so. “Yeah, you’re completely right. I’ll do that.”

Somewhere deep down, he knew that the answer was this simple. Giving a normal apology to someone he already considered a friend should never have been this difficult in the first place. But this is so new, and Molly is so different and reminding Caleb of emotions he forgot he ever had. If he calls, he isn’t just mending a small rift with a friend, he’s accepting all those scary, nostalgic feelings into his life. Things like the fun of music, of enjoying his work, pride, and all sorts of uncomfortable emotions.

“Caleb?” Nott calls just before he reaches his room. He stops and looks back over his shoulder to see Nott staring at him from the couch down the hall. “Is, uh… Is there something happening with… uh, I mean, like, this is just friends, isn’t it? Or is it, like… not quite friends, more kinda…?”

She twists her hands in vague gestures in the air that make no sense, but Caleb understands her meaning. All he can do is let out a deep breath and shrug his shoulders. She sends him an understanding smile as he finally closes the door behind him.

What she brought up is… something Caleb has tried to avoid thinking about ever since the concert. Although it’s been a long time since he dated anybody or had any kind of romantic interest, he isn’t some naive child; it’d take a fool to misinterpret everything Molly’s been putting out. Mollymauk, inviting him out for coffee, talking the entire time, exploring town and extending their time together with every little thing he could think to visit. They held off practice, played a bunch of different instruments together and smiled and laughed as if it was all normal.

No, Caleb has spent too much time gossipping with Beau and Nott to pretend he’s blind. It isn’t any secret that Mollymauk had invited him on a date, and Caleb agreed, and he went, and he had one of the best days he’s had in a very long time.

Caleb reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, staring down at the black screen as the lack of notifications sinks in. Molly is charming, handsome, and has the worst taste in fashion Caleb’s ever encountered for how specific and enchanting it is. He’s bright and kind and a little pushy, but isn’t that what Caleb needs right now? He can’t keep waiting for someone else to give him a little shove forever.

Whether or not something romantic may come of this is an issue to wrestle with another time. Caleb isn’t quite sure how he feels, always shutting that conversation with himself off before it can begin, but he knows he enjoys being with Molly. Before any of that kind of talk can begin, he has to repair the friendship.

A pang of guilt shoots through his chest and into his fingers that urges him to turn off the phone when he pulls Molly’s contact up. He can see just the preview of their texts and the messages that Caleb had never responded to. With a deep breath and more courage than he’s had to muster up in months, Caleb presses the call button.

He’s more surprised by the fact it’s actually picked up than he is to hear Mollymauk’s voice, normal and clear as ever. “Hello?” he asks, as if nothing had happened at all.

“...Molly?” Caleb says, and he hears Molly chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Yes, Caleb? What’s up?”

Part of him believed that Molly just didn’t look at the caller ID and would immediately turn off the phone when he heard Caleb’s voice. Maybe… just maybe… Caleb overthought a lot of this. It’s more confusing than anything, as he’d been prepared to apologize and explain himself and ask for forgiveness that he isn’t sure he needs anymore.

The intention of an apology rises in his throat, but when it leaves his mouth, the words off his tongue are, “Would you like to come over and listen to that record tomorrow?”

**Author's Note:**

> Super excited to see this one through. Hit me up on my tumblr [@ludella](ludella.tumblr.com) to talk or small drabble requests.


End file.
